Sunday, February 27, 2011


Looking down the darkened hallway, I see the crack of a door, light pouring from it's tiny opening on the bare floor. My own door creaks as I realize I am leaning on the knob as I furtively peer around it's half closed concealment. My bare feet feel the floor; could I stealthily creep down the hallway to investigate? I try to recall the creaks and cracks, sparing a few words to my undetailed memory.

I risk it, feeling the floor beneath my feet, rolling silently and slowly through my toes step by step along the corridor. The light becomes bigger and darkens the dark around me. I hear small nothings in the room, deafened by the sound of my attempted silence, breathing, and thoughts.

More now than before, the curiosity owns me and compels me forward. I know not what I would do or say if discovered; resigned, I realize the truth is my closest ally: curiosity.

What is behind the door? What compels me forward this day, this night?


I am always on the outside; I keep to the outside.

It's freedom and it's isolation - wanting to be included but staying aloof.

It's a choice and a rejection and I can never be sure which came first and begot the other, or if they are like two sides of the same coin, entwined so completely one could not separate them into their many parts. It must be of many parts because composition is never one thing and another, singularly, rather, always: one thing and many others all interdependent, holding each other up while keeping each other down.

So every time I linger on the edge of something - parties, work events, flickr photo groups and work discussions - I wonder who I'm waiting for permission from, while knowing that it's only me and my dance with rejection ~ staying safe in isolation and pondering the hazard of committing to participation.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

January Mosaic for 365 Photo Project

And just a small sense of accomplishment for completing the whole month, despite travel, procrastination, lack of inspiration and even being sick.