this post has nothing to do with sky, and everything to do with sky.
today, i took my camera and a friend out for my first legitimate practice session this year. the first time i have forced my eyes to see creatively since the image of death was burned into them. baths of tears have not washed it away. i see him everywhere, my sky. he is as ubiquitous as his namesake.
but it is with these eyes of death that i must create, because to cease creating is to accept death. so … i took some pictures.
it felt like a dream. fumbling, rusty, how do i do this again, how do i see this again, like seeing through water or thinking on benadryl. i spent 30 seconds searching for the f-stop dial.
fragile. temporal. fleeting. light. glimpses of focus. these are life. in small acts of creation we practice life and, paradoxically, fight death even as we rehearse it. little deaths and little lives encircling moments. moments a gift and curse.
i am alive.