I wanted to start it on the dance floor. I don’t know why, I just did.
I wanted to start it twirling, and yes, tripping over my own feet trying to find the beat.
I wanted loud music and dim lights; to move in tune with something other than the racket in my mind.
I didn’t care that it fell on a Tuesday. I didn’t care that it might rain. I didn’t care that we were no longer teenagers and had to work the next day.
But the day neared and no-one signed up for it… My invitations didn’t find a single yes. Instead, I received carefully packaged excuses, long-winded reasons wrapped in blushing reds, and friendly suggestions that made more sense for semi-functional adults like ourselves. …
In the distant horizon I stand steadfast and true,
rays piercing through viscous gray skies,
illuming the way for seekers and strays
whom yearn for the lure of harbor in my light.
Through darkest of storms my radiance gleams
to greet the eyes of your soul,
glowing with warmth over savage waves
offering refuge and calm at my shore.
When tumultuous waters wrestle with strength
to drown between massive swells,
espy the pulse of my fervent beams
and head inland, bidding tempest farewell.
My lucency is your lifeline at sea
when headwinds billow and rage. …
“Taken by a blunt wave of soul-corroding euphoria, I closed my eyes and let my body be shook by the rhythmic pulse of the collective… In this night, gathering one last time around the fire, every single one of us felt emboldened to open the cage and feel the liberation of uncensored self-expression.”
I have always been fascinated with observing the behavior of my fellow human beings. As a child, I often asked my parents why adults were so freaking “booooring”. …
Do not be deceived; there is light in the world.
As we left the house for our walk, and I skipped down the steps behind the kids, magnetic energy stopped me in my tracks. I turned my head back to look in the direction of the vibe — the pumpkin. It was pulling me closer until I was staring straight into it.
I saw an entire world — our world.
Through the pumpkin’s fibrous strands and seeds, I saw branches, clouds, the Moon, darkness, light, and a watchful eye. …
The walls of my throat contract with desperation.
Each inhalation holds a scream of undiluted fear.
Each exhalation attempts to reason — to calm.
The steps are getting louder —
Drenched secured palm
over Lilith’s mouth
eyes lock and gaze
feeling no tomorrow
a hunt for hope,
if it will be the last,
tears flood —
other palm, over her heart —
an innocent one,
The footsteps creep — sound
the next step
see here —
Please take note of how that story ends in your mind. Follow the suspense, click into the bigger picture, an ending to the story… through the sequel…
Sometimes you start off on a photo-walk, and you end up sharing a peanut butter sandwich with a stranger.
In 2012 we used to go on a lot of photo-walks, organized by our friend and fellow camera enthusiast, John Carvalho. The group would meet at some designated Mississauga park or street and off we would go, sometimes as many as 25 people.
During those walks we met and got know a lot of very nice people.
On one such walk, a brisk but lovely morning, I ended up walking with lady I had not met before. Her name was Missi and she and I and our dog Tessa went forging along, looking for interesting scenes to capture. …
Belgium in June. A solitary fawn ambled out of the wilting wheat.
It had been hot for weeks. Much hotter than usual for this part of the world and nature was emerging from the woods in search of water.
It was not typical, to find a lone young deer this far out of the forest.
She didn’t look well. Flies buzzing around her head and she seemed slow. Disoriented.
I tried to get her some water from my house a short walk away, but before I returned she had already disappeared. A ghost. Vanished in the tall wheat.
Continuing with our dog walk, my wife and I reflected on that poor animal who seemed to be struggling. Sickly. On the edge. …
Envision the journey of sudden passion that awaits on the sun’s staircase. Free your ascent into the vast arena of light and time. Leave hesitation in the shadows, because fleeting is the mechanism that illuminates these connections.
Logic gives way to instinct in this sentient wanderlust. Reactive expression reigns infinite. These fires need not be extinguished until we soak our eyes at dawn.
Audible Sundays is a freeform series inspired by one new music release a week. Each entry is written in synchronicity to the mood of the song and the photograph. Follow the playlist on Spotify:
“Can we go there?”
Impossible as it seems now, we’ll hop on a train lurching with hope and freedom of movement.
Watch the countryside swirling past: impressionist, expressionist. Fields of mustard, sunflower, the blue sky then the concrete and ironworks curling overhead.
The rhythm you feel is the fluctuating possibility of it all, the shuffling side streets, the quickstep of strangers, the staccato of the city surface, the beating heart of the metro.
Here we are on a June evening. The sun didn't want to kiss us goodbye, the warmth still rises off the streets, and the cool breeze flows from the lawns and riverbanks. People are scattered like stars — still lounging, laughing. …