I want the real you,
Not this avatar,
Where my thoughts are sucked.
This voice of yours
That speaks of fragility and hurt,
I want the real you
Because I am a man.
You say the real you is what you want
But in doing so you’d be destroyed.
There are things about you
That you cannot say
Or they would destroy the timidity you display.
You have your demons.
I say you could not be demonic
With that trembling voice.
I respect your need to hide things
You’ve left unknown.
I had to look up “heathen-”
Someone who does not believe in God,
You are honest
I have no right to press you,
Gone too far.
No one is perfect;
I am that example.
But your beauty is unflawed
By your kindness,
The imperfections you have hidden
And yes, what appears your tolerance
Is visible and virtuous.
I am not blind to this,
Perhaps, it is your downfall
To be willing to see the beauty
Who is not so beautiful at all.
But, just as Nancy Reagan said,
You can always say, “No,”
Or in this case, “NO!”
The windfall is true.
Your perfection is my sin.
Response to a Barista Order-taker and Cashier at Guerilla Cafe in May 2013
Tell me what this image contains, what it reminds you of.
When I was in Paris in 1995, I walked around the city. I shot each day for a week. I came upon this window and inside the store were these elements: Mirror, antique statue, bedpost, etc. and behind me was a building and a bike on the street. It spoke of the medium given my being upside down in the mirror. The black and white spoke of timelessness. The age and articulation of Europe as the origins of my soul, that I could apprehend catharsis itself in an image meant that I could stop. I have never shot a better image than this. It represents me, my eye, and aesthetic capacity. I hope to continue this journey when I eventually get to London, another city with windows in an urban environment.
Inspired by Elka Eastly Vera’s advice in having flowers around, here’s a view of a vase, candelabra, and painting of mine.