There is another world. I know it, I feel it, and I breathe it. Where it is I cannot say other than it is here within my mind and pulsing through my being. I feel a parallel universe and an empathy with all that is out there, knowing that I cannot know it all but at least try to understand some.
My photos create my thoughts and my thoughts produce photos. I seek out neither. They have come to me in places I’m at, scenes to be seen and there to be taken. I, as the beholder of the camera, sometimes see it differently, but see it I
will, and take it I do.
There is a timelessness, an overlapping of ages passing through DNA, heritage, ancestry and nationality into my being.
Of all the places I could be I am here, at the centre of my existence in this body at this time. Where else could I be, unless so removed from the realities of life that I’m not here at all.
My photos are proof of my existence, not because I am in them (I am not), but because I am behind them, the finger on the shutter button to eclipse a moment in time.
Landscapes appear seasonal, lost in an environment of their own. It is the lifelines on the faces of the people I see that betray the hardships of existence.
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