War? Dance.

Writing hour,
cut down to half by a late meditation and
the making of two cups of tea,
one for me. Amazing street art dance springs to mind
with a shot of rhythm from the downstairs tv,
not what was on
but what was,
days have passed since but not the feeling,
the tension, fists curled,
body taking each step with him as I sat still,
moving more than could be seen.
I could only imagine the pain on my face,
could not come into contact with my reflection,
couldn’t miss a single burst of energy,
watched every twirl,
each meeting of bare ground and foot,
the naked concrete vulnerable to his tread,
indented with indelible emotion,
a pulse,
a throbbing that cracks the unbending,
the stoic,
the solid.
The only weapon that can.


So, there I was….

….explaining how in art and in writing I try only to express myself and not what I think I want someone else to see or hear. ‘Never write to be read,’ I said. ‘It kills all chance of honest expression’. These words, spoken a mere 48 hours before I found myself here, composing my first heading and wondering which background to pick, which question to ask, which who to invite and entrust, and what it would all entail.

An interesting choice, then, a blog, mostly for others’ benefit, as they appear to be. How can anything written in this box truly be anything other than for-another? And, more importantly, why bother? Hasn’t everyone said it all and said it again and found that the more they say the more they have to say and haven’t they eventually lost track of why they were saying it anyway?

What made me start….poetry, probably – it doesn’t feel safe on a book about faces. And photography, too. At least here it’s a little more….here. A little less…local – you know what I mean – we’ve all seen the shots of the late-nights and the holiday snaps and the dogs and the cats and the weddings and the babies, of everyone we’ve never even met before but they were in a picture with our best friend’s housemate’s boyfriend and we’re not sure how but we were browsing something else some hours ago and we meant to stop but we somehow forgot. So….here we are. Here I am.

And there we go.

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