It was the night train. Boarded in Geneva after sunset and pulled into Rome at sunrise.
Chuck, chuck – chuck, chuck through Lombardia.
Rolled from side to side on the top bunk that night. At one point, I awoke to the sound of Italian immigration officers shouting and beating on the paper-thin door of the couchette. Couchette, that’s a fancy word isn’t it? Go ahead – use it three times tomorrow. Here’s one you can try “did Francis leave his pipe in the couchette?”
“Passaporto!” Read the rest of this entry »
This recently caught my eye.
This shot was captured in the abandoned train station in Moshi, Tanzania. A weathered wooden box which once collected anonymous input, now swings uselessly from a rusty anchor. A small, thought-provoking relic of a bygone colonial era. When I saw it, I imagined the human faces of foreign powers who descended one-by-one in a “please take a number” fashion upon this corner of the world. Read the rest of this entry »
What if I had a memory bottling machine? I am just thinking out loud here, but something like a device or doohicky that would capture not just the image, but the essence of a moment. Some kind of bottling contraption so that we could bottle a moment’s greatness, bitterness or a bit of both for later consumption. The result would be a kind of fizzy soda of your past that when sipped, the effervescence would bring back every sense, emotion, mood, nuance, taste, sound – so that you could experience your moments everlasting. Read the rest of this entry »
First off, I am not a poet so ‘ode’ is by far too generous for the words that will follow. Alas, I am afflicted by visions of my own grandeur. So, let’s stick with ‘ode.’
As summer gets into full swing, we seek out places to cool our blazing hot Texas (insert where you live) jets. Just thinking about it makes me get all giddy like a little kid. Brimming with the anticipation of that clear, crisp plunge. Ahhhhh…
As this is an ‘ode’, I shall reflect fondly upon the summer refreshment of my youth. Read the rest of this entry »