Write what you know, they say.
What I know is photography. I may not have a mind full of fancy words and gleaming images that rock the foundations of a heart. But I do have photography.
In trying to find words to say to release the inner dam within me my scattered thoughts settled on the images I create. One by one they scroll through my mind like a carousel of memories written not in words but in the blending of colours in a square. Why try to capture letters like droplets in a sea when I can pluck words from pictures and stick them on a page? Try to convey the reason and feeling for a specific photo.
So that's where I am. For the next while I will focus my writing on images from my travels and from my life. I often muddle the two and choose an image that goes with my writing and it's always felt disconnect and out of sync. I will let my images speak and my words be a nest underneath them.
On our first morning in the Moroccan desert after a very fitful sleep under a mosquito net and hot weather, I jumped out of bed at the crack of dawn as the sun was just beginning to awaken another day. The earth was bathed in a soft glow met with haze from the dust of the land. All was still, gentle, cool, and cradled in the promise of another warm day.
I stood watching the sun rise wanting to capture the changing landscape as it went from soft to contrasted to blazing. Each second of the rising sun brought with it a different landscape and a different feeling until the sun cascaded over the horizon unable to be kept at bay any longer.
I took a deep breath, greeted the day with tired eyes and took a bite of the fig in my hand.
