I woke this morning at three. It's often the case.
Tonight I was thinking of old photographs and how many of them fell along the path of time from my trusty old Pentax Spotmatic - bought with the generosity of Ernie Kent's credit card (repaid over time, I must add).
Like bread crumbs along the path between then and now - did I hope I could follow them and find my way back?
Occasionally one of these bread crumbs surfaces in the seams of my pockets and I'm startled by its clarity of purpose and meaning. I'm a better photographer now but somehow the pictures are not better. They are now more contrived with less emotion and fewer layers of meaning.
A three AM cigarette on the patio, the glow of a full moon shows through the overcast. There are pictures of pictures in my mind, leading silently back along the path of time.
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