The Dream Comes After That..

A ripe apple fell of the tree we planted and I knew that it was time to leave home. The nest was warm and I was still a little shaky with my wings, but I knew I wouldn't fall. 

She whispered and it was there, all the happiness of yesterday came rushing back, almost knocking me off my feet. 

He watched me get dressed, everything I put on, he took off. My perfume floated through the air, finding a home on my neck then nestling behind my ear.

I was on his lips for days.

Deep breath twice..

Lately you've been in my dreams, the scent of freshly cut grass reminds me I'm surrounded by life, even as I fall asleep in a concrete jungle. My window is open. I know you're outside on my stoop smoking a cigarette, but I can't smell the smoke anymore and I can't feel the fire.

My ring doesn't fit when it's winter, I leave it on my dresser when I go to work, wanting to see it again is all that gets me home safe.

Life isn't enough for me now because I used to have you. Being in love is like floating, if you're unlucky enough to see it end, you have to learn to walk.

There's a spider in my room that bites me every night, we're friends though, it knows that I will never harm it.

I love him, so what does it matter where we lay.

Everything ends on a whisper, but we left this world on a glance. Torn apart by impending shadows, forever separated by our dreams.

I'm not sure how it ends, know one does, but one. I do know something though, this isn't a rehearsal.

You're Not my Person But You're Soft to Touch..

It was new, that made me like it less, but everything is new at one point. 

Her hands made a perfect pattern on the window, the cold outside held it for a moment before the inside snatched it away, no longer proof of life. Even though everything was chaos she was as elegant as a breeze. She held up the corner of her dress so it wouldn't disturb the snow as she descended the stairs to meet him. They stood apart from each other, as if unsure how to behave in what they thought was a dream. 

"We're only sleepwalkers" she said. He held her until she couldn't cry anymore. 

From that morning they were awake, they knew the horrible truths that the world hid behind the sky's grey clouds and the ones that stood in plain sight before them. It made her love him more, she didn't know if that was wrong, she didn't care. 

You've changed the setting, we're still the same.

The sky was different, it struggled to carry the weight of the scars it held. The buildings sometimes helped but never got too close, afraid of what might be waiting. 

It made her seem more delicate, he was without a doubt. Before, you knew what was real and what wasn't, now you weren't so sure.

You never trusted calm waters again.

He wondered if the heavens would believe it, if he could talk to someone who had only lived before, what they might say?

Afterwards, people lived in their own minds more than before. I don't think there was a way around it. Some said there was more to lose now, but I think we were just more aware of what could be taken from us.

She took the train down town, even though the smoke had cleared it still hurt her eyes. It took her three hours to take two steps towards them. He was a stranger but he watched her the whole time.

Everything moved around her, but she was still, he was still. He stood next to her and although both of them were staring, neither of them looked, like a painful game of hide and seek in which the players were unsure of who was to hide and who was to seek.

The stars held up a black velvet sky as he let his hand fall to meet hers. She exhaled a light cloud that hung in the cool air for a moment, before the wind carried it away. She reached out squeezing his two end fingers affectionately and in that space, she closed her eyes and they met for the first time.

They stood in silence as leaves coated the streets in the background. Words were overrated, they both knew that, so neither spoke, the moment said everything.

"I was waiting for someone else" she finally whispered.

He looked at her, "So was I".

The Thin Line..

She held the clouds tears in her hands, they barely made a sound. She couldn't hold them all though, the free ones dripped through her fingers making strange puddles on the ground, one looked like a bear, she smiled.

His lips where her favourite part, she kissed him slowly, in her mind, because he wasn't there to touch. Sometimes I close my eyes to feel more. The sun wraps me up in a blanket, the breeze takes off my coat, the rain likes my fringe streaked across my face and each passing mind gives me a whisper.

The world is soft to hold when you take away distraction, it's not as scary as it is when you're a child with eyes wide open. The edges of things aren't as sharp, but all you have is imagined beauty that you can't ever be sure is real. Until a stranger helps you find the elevator, or you sense someone's arms around you as a rail when you're jolted on a train. You breathe in, restored faith and you're back to your beginning.

Fear for the future is there, always. Hope for tomorrow is collected today.

Out of Sight, Still in Mind..

I couldn't wait to be whole again, the sunset beckoned me, the Earth wanted to take me back. I just kept running. 

Destined to be what? You never really know and destiny, such a funny word and perhaps a poor choice for a name. But so true, why else would you choose one path specifically, out of the several presented to you? You run from something long enough, you'll eventually run into it again and if you don't run enough you'll get fat and it won't want to take you back.

So perhaps after this I will walk my path, or run down it, in my usual style and then, when I meet you at the end, proud, I'll have something to say.

Now two of my favourite quotes, that sort of fit with my minds latest babble:

"Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet."

"The human race is so puny compared to the universe that being disabled is not of much cosmic significance." 

-Professor Steven Hawking

How We Made Love..

He loved to watch her. In her manic moments she was like a plane rushing through a cloud, from the ground it looks so delicate but really it's going too fast. The sound of her biting her nails put him on edge, but she only did that when she was nervous, so at least they were on the same page. 

He loved being next to her, everything was beautiful. Her eyelashes fluttered as the breeze picked up snow flurries from window sills and the ledges of buildings. 

She was soft to touch. Everything upset her. 

New York was her favourite place to be, the busyness soothed her mind. She knew people just through looking at them. "They were married young, but they love each other". All of it was important to her, she cared about so much.

They told us everything was like paper to them and they just wanted to tell their story. She loved that, so she started scratching her favourite words into the back of train seats on the way home. People saw, but we didn't care.

"I want you to come everywhere with me".

"I will".

Listen..

I knew what to write, before it was in my mind it was on my lips. Like a raging river, nothing could calm me.

If I Don't Take This Photograph People Like my Mom Will Think War is What They See on TV - Kenneth Jarecke

I didn’t know I was awake, that’s what made me fearless.

I never left her side.

It hung loosely around my neck, like my protector. Looking through this window made everything seem like a dream, but the dust in my eyes told me it wasn’t. You don’t feel the details of a dream like that. I didn’t have time to check it.

The sands of these lands were heavy with all the lives they held, one of them his. I couldn’t forget the way he fell, it was in my mind and also in my hand. He took his last breath before he hit the ground. He was still alive when the shutter clicked. The sun shone on his wedding ring before the blood had a chance to run down his arm. He was still alive in my picture, still but alive. It felt distant, even though I was up close.

The sun left us alone as clouds framed hills in the background, the moon a night-light that watched everything with sorrow. It never rained here nothing could be washed away.

The vest was uncomfortable to sleep in, but you never knew when you would have to move. I didn’t like wearing it and wouldn’t if I had the choice. I took it off once and the others thought it was some sort of statement about who was stronger. I slipped back into it to ease their egos rather than my mind.

I’d been shot twice before. You don’t really fear anything anymore when you know what it feels like, or what it looks like. I wonder if they knew that?

Many questioned the humanity of what I did, but that was only because they weren’t used to sitting with such intense feelings, ones that I felt every day.

Show me the truth so I might change my path. 
Everyone always says they want the truth and liars in our world are looked upon with such disdain, but they don’t know that a lot of the time they can’t deal with it, by then they’re already too damaged to feel like that again.

Even though this was like another world, I felt at home. I was more like these people than the one I shared my bed with, because they wanted to know, they held their feeling, moved on and felt regret when they became used to it. At least I was more removed behind this lens, or at least it felt like that, but then when I was back home I knew I wasn’t, as tears of guilt stained my face and the basin ran red from the blood on my camera strap.

 Photojournalism complies with a rigid ethical framework which demands that the work is both honest and impartial whilst telling the story in strictly journalistic terms.