Saturday, July 21, 2018

So it starts out with a text i am reading, and as i read i am whizzing by the images from the text as if in a train and i hear the writer repeating 
"I kept fishing with the same bait over and over and over" and i see ahead of us, of the text-images and me, a deep chasm over which hangs a rope bridge, the kind i know i will never cross if not in a dream and then i am at the other end and looking back at the text-image world with an ache i can only describe as love and i try to point my camera at what had just gone by, so somehow i can show the writer what i saw, blindly believing that might bring some relief to the writer and i keep looking through my camera eye which shows me a vibrant fastmoving crowd rushing across the bridge but none of the bridge and even less of the text-image world. Not even hints of it in the camera vision. And then my people flustered by my lateness so i move on without even a photo to keep fishing with the same ache over and over and over.