Every image has a story
Deep, deep down in amongst the undergrowth, thickness, darkness and lif…light.
The old die young but never lost, they stand and wait until new will pass… Waiting till rotting breeds new life and turns what was old into a… (pause)
Sanctuary and shelter new and old will give new stories to all both young and old.
Sometimes the picture does all the talking for you. It’s simply beautiful. Roots intertwined with rocks hovering over the water, reflections formed through the sun and shade, stillness and movement all rolled into one. Just look at it and enjoy it will arouse your eye.
We all sat there listening, but the day had been long and the workshops tiring. It felt like the heat from the sun had been bottled and poured into the room, the doors sealed, windows locked, suffocating our minds. But we tried. The content of the lecture was interesting but concentration hard. As I looked around the room I saw many yawns growing and eyes shutting, but I scolded myself and listened.
It is interesting when you start to think, words and sentences connect to your experiences and thoughts and then you start to make sense of a conversation you are having in your head, but then, something in the explanation doesn’t add up or there are words you don’t want to hear, so you change the narrative to make it fit. I suppose you will always see what you want to see, but the difficult part is to know what you are looking for.
I kept listening trying to come to a conclusion, but in the end it seemed like the lecturer was offering a silver bullet, the answer, he made his thoughts clear and told us the truth. I felt anxious, it wasn’t the truth I wanted to hear, but in made a lot of sense. Was I willing to listen to it? I suppose only time will tell. Are we all so similar that we can analyse behaviour and find the answer, or is life a little more individual than that. I hope we are more individual.
The lecture stopped and they opened the doors, a rush of cool evening air poured in and my mind immediately felt refreshed, time and thoughts, time and thoughts I said to myself. But not too many thoughts.
‘Sorry mate. It’s a nightmare, there are so many conversations going on at once, I don’t know who to answer.’
‘I didn’t have one conversation’
‘Yes we did, we talked about Muji’
‘You talked about Muji’
Silence… John sat back in his seat and drank his coffee, his mind was a blur with questions and answers, for jobs he had to do that day, for people he had to see and for Mary, he had to spend some time with her. But he knew those things should wait, he needed to speak honestly with Chris, he knew he was unhappy and he wanted to listen to him, but then he had to go and help Rebecca.
‘What you gonna do for Christmas?’
There was a long pause as Chris stared out of the window toward the sea. ‘Duno, go to Turkey?’ He said asking the question to himself.
‘Or stay here?’ John encouraged.
‘Hmmmm…’
Chris picked up his empty glass and walked toward the bar. As he did Elizabeth burst through the door.
‘John, hey mate, how’s it going?’
‘Yeeees, how the fuck are you?’ John shrieked standing from his seat.
Elizabeth slalomed through the tables and jumped up into John’s arms, they held each other smiling.
‘I missed you’
‘Yea me too’
‘We need to…’ Elizabeth burst into a long monologue about the potential theatre ideas she and John had been discussing over the last three months, John listened and in the background Chis slipped away. He attempted a goodbye, but it was too late Elizabeth had all of John’s attention.
Chris walked toward the beach, along the promenade, his mind empty, not angry, not sad, just empty. The path was deserted, old, abandoned and in need of a lick of paint. His eyes jumped from one closed building to the next. Bored, the grey on grey reminded him of his own thoughts. He sighed to himself desperate for some inspiration, but kinda happy there wasn’t anything there. He kept walking until he was far enough away from the hubbub of the cafe and sat down next to kiosk.
Life From the Dirt 