Sunday, September 7, 2008
They are just here, that’s all, in this place of borders, on the threshold of becoming. What do their faces tell us? Are they sisters? Are they friends? It’s not clear, even, when these photographs were taken. There is an archaic quality about them, as if the camera is a time machine and we’re looking through the lens to another time, another era, maybe a century ago.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Reality Is What You Make It: "sometimes we see only what we are told to see. It is this mechanism that magicians use for their slight of hand tricks. They divert our attention from the important action by focussing our brains on irrelevant details."
Sometimes we see only what we are told to see. It is this mechanism that magicians use for their slight of hand tricks. They divert our attention from the important action by focussing our brains on irrelevant details.
Friday, July 18, 2008
It was after this that I first heard a bear speak. It was Lydia. She was walking up and down by the fence making this noise. It is a unique and unmistakable sound, like a plaintive nasal cry, slightly wistful, slightly melancholic. The Latin name for bear is "Urs" and that is exactly the sound they make. "Ur?" It's a question. There's a questioning tone to it, like something you might ask of the mountains, of the wind. Something slightly sad. "Why have you left me, Ur? Where have you gone, Ur? Why do all us creatures have to die?" You can hear the peaks of the mountains in its voice. You can hear the breathing nearness of the wind. You can hear the echoes of the forest. You can hear the lonely miles of travel. You can hear mortality and loss.