This is another photo taken for a challenge that didn’t fit due to it not being taken in the way the challenge required. I was walking when I took this and wanted to see the effect and if it would work. I do like the effect, however.
There’s this sort of painting feel to this that I like, and it’s not in the lights, but more the urban structures.
I hope you enjoy.
Just a sunset photo.
I hope you enjoy.
Is this cafe my new regular? I don’t know, but the atmosphere remains nice.
I’m thinking about how much work and effort goes into making a place inviting. It must take a lot of time, and other things. Well, that’s the end of that thought.
The sun shines and it’s a beautiful day. It’s also cold as, but it is beautiful, and that’s nice. It’s nice to see some clouds away. The trees aren’t looking the best, but it’s cold and it’s winter and that’s to be expected, really. What else is there to expect, other than many other things out there? Nothing; that’s what.
But on a more serious note, it’s a nice day. The clouds are gone, or at least minimal and things feel alright, and I’m tired and stressed and nothing changes, but the view does and that’s always something to look forward to.
My life is slipping into a comfortable banality right now, but I’m restless. Need to be less lazy, I guess, but that takes time. But I have been lazy and it’s starting to bite me. Therefore I need to ramp things up.
I need to launch myself across the mountains, and perhaps over them. I must travel far and wide, and hope for a chance and live on a prayer. I must see the rivers and rivulets and canals and streams and creaks and floodplains and deltas and all those other things that I care not to name right now. Much like some watery paths, I will meander and I will meander with purpose. The direction is forward and I won’t look back.
What I will find, I have no idea, but I know that on this fine day there will be the movement and the motion that I so desire. I will go ahead and go beyond what I know and see more. Once I see more, I will know more and in knowing more I can go more. I can go to where the unfamiliar leads me and I can finally find that effort that I need to put in in order to get to where I don’t need to be and then, after, to where I need to be.
It’ll be a merry old time and, at the end of it all, I will not know how to bring that back so instead of doing so, I will take a nap and call it a day. I will call it a day and rest, and I will think abut what I have learned. I will think about my gold and those that I care about, and after much time thinking, I will begin my trek home.
But it’s cold right now, so maybe not. Maybe I’ll put it off until tomorrow and I can hope for a warmer day. I can hope and hope and hope some more, and once I’m done with that, I can hope even more.
So I won’t travel today, but tomorrow it might just be.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:22:77
Tried to get silly, didn’t quite.
Written at Dirty Red.
A few weeks ago, I took this photo as I was taking my camera in for servicing. I was trying to capture the details and texture. This wall has a sense of aging and decay to it, but I can only imagine it’s a few years old at most.
This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week. This one is hosted by Elke of Pictures Imperfect Blog, and she has chosen “Naturally Monochrome” as her theme.
This challenge is open to all, and I recommend joining in. If want to, check out more information about it here, and include the tag “monochrome-madness” when you share your photo. If you’d prefer not to join in, then at the least check out Leanne’s photography, and what other people submit.
I hope you enjoy.
One listen.
Just went into it, wrote, came out. It’s getting easier, writing. It’s coming back a bit. That’s good. I think that’s reflected here. Short sentences.
Anyway, I think this works for the song. Not sure if it represents the song well enough, but I think it works.
HOME’s “Decay” is from Odyssey.
I hope you enjoy.
—
Synth stabs fading out and into the next, and soon more cries out shining. A bassy line comes in, creating a rhythmic counterpoint, and it’s not long before the beat comes in, strident, striking.
It’s all steady and the new sounds come in, carry a sadness. They wring out emotion from themselves and from the moment; they travel onward along a long road, and they find a little quiet. Or rather, a diminishing.
It’s a pause for thought, a pause for change. There’s space and synth moves in alternating forms whilst the melody remains the same. The flow remains the same and sound moves rapidly, reaching out above, looking down below, and driving ever forward.
Sounds come back and the moment is widened. There’s turmoil, perhaps. Despair, sadness… plenty of things. But things continue on.
It’s lament. It’s a lamentation, and maybe a letting go. A letting go, despite not wanting to. Having to let go of something falling apart, even as the song ends.
Another place left behind. Moving always takes time, and this one took a lot of time, and much of that was compressed into a short period.
There was no final walk through Croydon Park. There was no exploration of what was around. It was just a slog, and by the time I was done, I wanted to be gone. Really just done with it all.
I lived in Croydon Park for a little over six years, and the second place was for two of them.
I’m not sure which day I moved out right now. I think it was the 17th of May. Maybe the 18th. It doesn’t matter, really. It was a hard day of work among many days of hard work. All of it went by slow and fast at the same time, and I had time to reflect and think about leaving the area, but I didn’t have the time at all.
I thought I’d have more words about this but I don’t. Clearing stuff out of the house continued for a few days after, then I handed over the keys. After my ex was done, realistically getting the last of the house cleared out wasn’t my responsibility. It was mostly her rubbish she couldn’t or wouldn’t take, but I wanted to make sure she got the bond back and I didn’t want it to become my responsibility. So the last load was mainly rubbish. And then it was done.
As said, there was no final walk through Croydon Park. No reflection about the time in the house. I have some good memories and a lot of bad, and I was tired by the end of it all. But I want to go back. I want to do that final walk, and I hope I get around to doing it. But maybe the moment has passed. I don’t know.
As with many things, a property becomes more than its materials and design. It gains meaning over time, and eventually it becomes meaningless once people move on. In that house, my ex and I dealt with a housemate that wouldn’t carry their weight, and then our relationship fell apart. But there were good times. I felt there were more bad than good, and I think of that house and am kind of glad I’m out. At the same time, I miss it. It was home, but it no longer is. And that’s the way it goes sometimes.
A photo of assorted fruit. I took this one recently whilst photographing a small event. Didn’t send this one over as it didn’t fit.
I like how the container’s top gives a slightly blurred feel. I think it works to make the photo more about the colour than the detail.
I hope you enjoy.
One of the last photos I took whilst at my previous place. Not much to say about this one. It’s just a pleasant scene.
This is my submission into the three hundred-and-fifty-second Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. The theme for this one is “Mellow“.
The host of the Lens-Artists challenges cycles weekly between the following people:
This one is curated by Sofia. The next one is curated by Beth.
At the moment Patti is sitting out the challenges whilst she recovers from wrist injuries. Go send her some love.
I recommend joining the community and participating in the challenges. They’re pretty straightforward, allow room for interpretation, and provide a good way to think about photography in general. If not, however, then at the very least you should check out what others submit to the challenges.
I hope you enjoy.
I took this photo for this challenge. I took it earlier on in the week, but it has been a bit of a week and so I’m only getting it up now.
I want to write about Finnegans Wake It’s one of my favourite books, and I’ve been meaning to do something about it for years. It’s not this post, but that thing should happen sometime this year… I hope.
Anyway, I should’ve used the tripod for this photo. Didn’t. Oh well. I still got something I’m happy with. Could be better, but I got what I wanted, framing-wise.
This is my submission into the three hundred-and-fifty-first Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. The theme for this one is “Books“.
The host of the Lens-Artists challenges cycles weekly between the following people:
This one is curated by Ritva. The next one is curated by Sofia.
At the moment Patti is sitting out the challenges whilst she recovers from wrist injuries. Go send her some love.
I recommend joining the community and participating in the challenges. They’re pretty straightforward, allow room for interpretation, and provide a good way to think about photography in general. If not, however, then at the very least you should check out what others submit to the challenges.
I hope you enjoy.
One listen.
It has been a long time since I last wrote about Nearly Oratorio. This isn’t from a new release, but it is one I finally acquired last week. Listened to it once, decided to cover this song in particular.
Not sure how well I captured the song. I think I did well in some parts and not so in others. Overall I think you’d et an idea from reading this, though perhaps not as strong an idea as one should get.
Nearly Oratorio’s “Voices” is from Showers.
I hope you enjoy.
—
Gentle, seemingly warped sound. Muffled. Peaceful, gentle, and a little sad too, maybe. Or maybe not.
Vocals come in, split and seemingly mumbled and clear at the same time. Slow and deliberate, and at the right pace. Always at the right pace. Percussion also gentle is now here, beeping along. Steady. More sound. Layering, moving along as though an innocent pulse frozen in time, or at least that moment in time is holding.
This sound is pretty and more comes in. More layers, filling with space without feeling cluttered. It all still feels small and cosy, and joyous. It’s blissful; it’s a right moment, and it stays still among motion and movement. It remains pretty. It stays pretty.
There’s a little bit of a pull back before everything and more comes in, and the space grows deeper, or wider. But it stays small. It seems very personal, and it’s a blip among a million others, but it’s this blip that matters.
Percussion increases, and so do other sounds. So do keys, and percussion takes over, drowns out everything, takes over, engulfs, and is suddenly diminished where another note comes in. Vocals distort and seem to lose structure whilst holding it. They echo out into a silence; into a void, where that moment remains and where the song ends.
Stupidity Hole 