Thursday, May 16, 2013
A young man walks from his house and takes a long route into town. He is walking because he feels that sitting inside all day, despite doing some things of artistic merit, is a bad choice, and some form of activity is needed to keep the body in proper working condition. The sun is shining and warm, the air is bright and he is wearing comfortable clothes. He thinks as he walks, and takes several deep breaths of air, noticing the smells that are present. There is a breeze which climbs into his open jacket to cool him down; the combination of warmth and cool providing some small amount of pleasure to him.
The town is relatively busy and he takes some time as he walks, because he has nowhere to go apart from eventually home. On a whim he steps into an alleyway which leads to one of his favourite shops. Inside it is quiet and filled with beautiful objects. One day he plans to buy the lamp that he’s always seen in there. It is a beautiful lamp, but he doesn’t have anywhere to put it or the justification to spend the required amount of money on it just yet. One day he will buy it, place it in some as of yet unknown private room, turn it on and feel an amount of pleasure from its light and presence.
Walking out of the shop he stops to read some posters which are affixed to the wall. Looking up above the walls of the alleyway into the open space above he sees an arrangement of ageing brickwork and chimneys with the sky behind, which strikes him as a scene he would like to photograph at some point in the future. The act of photographing the scene and then viewing the print will bring him a small but qualitatively pure amount of pleasure. He also takes pleasure in knowing that he will return to take the photograph.
Walking around the town he sees people going about their daily lives, and allows them to do so. He finds joy in the movement and simplicity of it all, and looks carefully at the people he passes. He participates in a spontaneous scene where three people gather and wish to cross the road at a point that lacks a proper crossing. He stands in the road and waits, his pose static and knowing, waiting for the proper time. The confident man to his left leads the way, with him a few steps behind. To his right a young woman also crosses and enters a shop on the other side of the road, greeting the inhabitants brightly before her voice is cut off by the tinkle of the door closing.
As he settles into his mobility scooter an old man causes the chair to produce a squeaking sound as he swivels it into its proper forward orientation. The sound draws the young mans attention as he passes. The old man seems so frail and innocent as he goes about his daily tasks, looking ahead with an almost wide-eyed expression, his mouth moving slightly as he adjusts himself into his seat. His wrinkled hands display two tattoos to signify that he was young once, too.
As the cars slow and form a queue to allow people to cross further up the road, the young man glances into one of the waiting vehicles. He sees an old lady putting on her seatbelt, as though she’d forgotten to before that moment. Her mouth assumed a natural state for someone of her age and in that specific moment the young man perceived her to be looking quite afraid, almost sad. He thought that the car must be driving itself, her only an observer to the scene, the modernity and rush of it all outpacing her delicate mind.
The young man looks forwards again and feels inside of him a surge of love for the people he is witnessing on this bright near-noon. He has a sudden strong desire to run and jump on to something and smile and shout and hold tight everyone around him. In the moment he loves everyone so dearly. He wants to somehow communicate to them all that it is okay, and how perfectly they are all getting along. He wishes to share with them all something of the feeling of simple joy that they are all unwittingly feeding him. He walks onwards with a glowing feeling in his chest and what feels like a smile in his mind, piecing the words together so he could write them down when he returned home.
In the car park he bears witness to the close passing of two cars, noting that one of them is the same as a girl from high school used to get picked up in. He wonders how she is doing and walks onwards. Rounding the corner onto the main street he passes two people standing near the window of the library and catches a couple of words of their conversation, but he will forget what they are. A man with a black jacket and black hair with his hands in his pockets passes by him in the opposite direction.
Nearly at the bottom of his street now he glances across the road to the other side and by chance sees his co-worker from the pub with his girlfriend. He sees them, but they do not see him. He hears his co-workers big friendly laugh and feels an affection for his happy demeanour. The young man crosses the road and looks back at them as they walk away towards town with all of its movement and people. He notices they are hand-in-hand and allows them to continue on in their private moment, feeling a gentle sense of warmth at having borne witness to such wonderful scenes.
the picture with the orange gate is probably my favourite picture I’ve ever taken.