Here's the lens that supported my attempt of photo-storytelling over the last 14 days. I love it to bits, it is simply perfect.
For those volunteers of suffering, here follows the full story, born from day to day from the photos and not planned in advance:
Morning has broken
You have deserted the bed since long. The morning light through the curtains is no comfort, just another day starting without a project.
Bare, just like the walls after you left taking away that lithograph you loved and I never liked.
I have not told you, though, and it was there, long enough to leave a mark on the paint.
Marks you left, all over.
No more digging in the fridge. I've emptied it. Your hundred jars left open, the exotic fruits, the cheese rinds. All gone.
Yes, the mold has taken its part, I didn't care sharing. After all, we spent half of our story going rotten.
So now I should hear me saying I’m free. For what? The cage we had built wasn’t gilded, those bars were rusty at times, but made a frame. Look at my wings; they’re stiff and curled up, I could spread them and fly. Or fall.
A brand new landscape lies in front of the chair I used to sit, on the watch for other ways. Most of the things you left behind look truer now, but their blank stares aim beyond me. Where, I can’t say.
Still, I can stay now. Waiting.
I used to rush - you taught me I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
I used to act - you taught me I wouldn’t affect the alignment of my stars.
I used to wonder - you taught me there’s no answer.
I know I should wear those glasses and watch. But what if I don’t like what I see?
The mirror that was ours looks so lonely reflecting itself in me. Maybe I should wear those glasses and go say goodbye. Keep my eyes shut, to set my image free.
In a quest for light and for warmth now I’m finding things. Images, shadows of what we could have been and never were.
I can’t clearly see where I am going now. When the going gets unfocused, the unfocused gets going. All alone.
I stopped checking my mailbox, too. I knew it would be empty, anyway. And I was afraid of bad news or another bill.
I paid my dues.
You know what? I think I’ll take a shower. One of those showers lasting 20 minutes or so, one of those that drove you mental. Maybe I’ll wash out the remainders of your memories.
Or maybe I'll plunge in warm water. Forget the cold you left; just dive, listening to the heartbeat slowing down, feeling the time expanding, until my lungs will burn and contract, claiming for fresh air. And from that dark be reborn.
Ice will melt, sooner or later, and flow. And finally dry up, just like everything. Just like everything.
Tears will turn into stone. Shiny, polished stone beads to count on, as time passes and the bygones become bygones.
I dont know what happened, for some reason your photos wasn't shown in my feed?
However now I have gone through them all and I have to say - amazing storytelling (and of course a fantastic skill level when it comes to the photos themselves).
A fine project - really well thought out and grandious executed!
You have a poetic soul to go along with you artistic eye. A most powerful combination. I hope that you will continue to share your writing. Many of the passages blew me away. I gave a fav for your writing this time. No slight to your photographly intended. But most well deserved.
Wonderful portrait and prose! I haven't been able to spend much time on 365 lately, and look what I've been missing! Glad I was able to key into this entry! Well done, DD!
However now I have gone through them all and I have to say - amazing storytelling (and of course a fantastic skill level when it comes to the photos themselves).
A fine project - really well thought out and grandious executed!
@runner365 Thanks so much, Claes!