Sometimes I don’t want to write, I just want to photo, to photograph.
I want to photo for photos sake. I want to photo for images. I want to take and make images for image sake. For art. For more than just a mere swipe or a second standstill.
Sometimes I don’t want to follow the little rules and regulations I have set for my own self in regards to what I do and how I do it. I just want to do it, I just want it done.
But it is these little rules that I have made, that I do occasionally break, that I feel help to create some kind of continuity of my content. I don’t know if anyone else sees it that way, but I know I do.
It’s not always about straight out face-value content; it is at times about what the content is, how it is presented, why it is presented, and all the hidden meanings and messages that can be found when one decides to delve deeper.
I’m an interviewer of the world, of my world, of the mass – curious to the core and wanting to know more. Because of this it is at times hard to pin point what to write or where to even start.
I wasn’t going to write anything for this. For once I was just going to post a post – a title, a location, a hashtag recognition / reference point, and a simple sentence. Instead, the words and the writing still managed to flow from the fingers into form.
It’s not always about the writing, nor is it always about the image…
Sometimes I don’t want to write, I just want to photo, to photograph.
People keep asking me if I like being home. Well, what do you think my answer is?
Of course being back out in a small town on the Plains in Australia is very different to travelling around the opposite side of the world in culturally rich and diverse Europe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the creature comforts of home too. Home being our family home, being Hay, and Australia as well.
To be close to my parents, brothers, family and friends is something I treasure, even more now then before.
Whilst away I became aware of how important a role the special people in your life play, and well, what they mean to me. This dawned on me a lot after the attacks.
I have gone away so many times now that I believe I have acquired a skill that makes it easier to be apart. I don’t forget people, but I often become so present to the situations I am surrounded by that I almost forget to miss them. It is not that I don’t miss my favourite people, places, faces and other fun times, but if I were to dwell on things that, like I have before, it makes life harder then it needs to be.
This time there were times when I did find there to be difficulties in being so far separated from my family, friends and familiarities though – in a physical sense yes, but more so in the mental sense. It was then that I really felt so very far away.
My family and friends mean the world to me. Their bubbles of love, kindness, commitment, support, encouragement, care and concern helped and helps me feel whole again, feel myself again.
Family is a special thing, and has a different meaning to different people. Be it by blood, or by bond; family is a feeling of closeness.
So, how could I say I don’t enjoy being home again? …especially when I get to share home cooked meals like this with the two I hold closest to my heart!! ** For me to post a phone picture of food from above, it must be a pretty special thing!! 😉 peace
Being back at your own home, especially when it’s also your childhood home, is always nice. Surrounded by family, friends, pets and your own bed, surrounded by what you know.
The thing with returning home after travelling though is that there is so, so much familiarity, overload. I always struggle to see past this fact when I come back, so when in a good mindset I have to try and see with fresh eyes.
It is so freaking hot up here and that is not helping my situation. With every day being over 40° since stepping off the bus on Friday, I barely leave air conditioned space unless I have to. Two days ago I couldn’t even bring myself to go out to our pool, because it was too hot to get there! That same day was still 40 at 6pm.
Yesterday I took both our dogs for a walk down to the river. I set off for a pleasant walk after dinner / as the sun was slipping away in the hope it would seem cooler. Almost everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I came back extremely pissed off at everything.
It didn’t help that just before leaving I had found out it was snowing where I was in England, having already seen it had snowed in Paris a day or two earlier. If only I stayed! I was rather jealous (but thanks for the pics Viv), and I’m sure this compounded my annoyance.
I’d forgotten about prickles, ants, all non-straight sticks I feared were snakes. I was covered in mud, burnt, cut, and I have seen my fair share of spiders, more in three days than four months, which was topped off with a white tail coming out of a shoe I hadn’t worn since October, so I had opted for thongs – not the best choice.
All these things that you get used to when living here, are right now driving me nuts. I’m trying to see the positive side of things, finding it at times, but not always.
Travel limbo often reminds me of the following quote by Heraclitus: “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river, and he’s not the same man.”
What once was is no longer, and what now is will not always be. Times are always changing, with certain things more obvious than others. Even when pissed off, at least I know it won’t be forever.
Magic is a concept of beautiful illusion designed to intrigue, entertain and enthuse an audience.
Last night I met up with a great selection of mates for a picnic in the gardens by the river to enjoy the day as it came to an end, the sun casting it’s last light over the city skyline.
It’s a delight to be able to sit back, relax, laugh and enjoy with people whom I have not see for four months or more, yet for everything to also feel so natural, so normal.
It was a beautiful evening in a superb city with a solid selection of the sweetest souls, all whom are curious about life and all its little lovelies.
A few weeks ago I wasn’t sure how I would go flying home, or being in a city again too, but all was good and it was nice to know I had such a night to look forward to upon my return.
Happy to say that as I revelled in the magic of the moment, it did at times felt a bit like a dream. Surreal is the fact that I am back down under once more, I had to keep reminding myself it was indeed real – I was there, my friends were there, and I wasn’t about to wake up.
Life is beautiful, life is magical, and it can feel like a most desirable dream if you allow it to. The illusive and illusory quality of such a thing comes from the idea of how much time we get to spend with these precious moments, along with our desire to understand and interpret what’s going on. Our time may be limited, but I would rather that then none at all.
Thanks to all who made it along, those who couldn’t, and to all whom didn’t as well – thank you for the special times shared not only last night, but in the many moments prior to now that have combined to be the collection of memories I get to call my life.
** Intrigued and entertained always, life sure is lovely!