In my world it’s still morning, at least. By the time I finish writing this it won’t be but I digress.
Wherever thou mayest find yourself (sorry I just read a Puritan prayer-book), I biddest thee good day!
As a means of introduction, I want to say that this idea recently hit me and I’m not sure why it took so long. As you all know by now, for my senior pictures I created a narrative of my life expressed through pictures. Each collection can be found in these links: Confessions Through Photography: Part I and Confessions Through Photography: Part II
Devin, co-author on this blog, and myself wanted to take an unconventional approach to story telling and mince the words from these pictures. We wanted to let them speak for themselves, if you will. Well, it’s been a few months and I thought to myself, “Why not create a little more depth to them?”
I believe that images can capture 1,000 words and still not do itself justice but I also believe adding language to them can create an entirely new universe. My plan is to craft a verbal narrative for these two parts through a poetry/prose style of storytelling. With each week, I will write the narrative and add the images that best relay what part of the story is happening.
Brightly shining, clouds lightly flying
The noon-day sun greets me warmly.
One step after the other,
my feet grace the road below.
I perceive the world around me, innocent and whole
Then I catch myself as I trip in a hole.
I chuckle to myself as I continue moving,
“Pesky path.” I mumbled. “Always keeping me on my toes.”
Indeed, our relationship was strange.
Never was there a day without a slight sense of humor.
I found it hard to blame my road for casually tripping me up.
“I should pay better attention, anyhow.” I reasoned.
My journey had always come with bumps and bruises.
I had seen others with the same contusions.
I didn’t feel alone even though this road was my own.
The pebbles below always reminded me of home.
Speaking of home, I see a house in the distance.
“I wonder if someone’s there who can listen?”
I approach this house but find no company near.
Instead, I take some time to inspect its surroundings.
Broken, cracked, and falling apart.
I had seen homes like these before but only from afar.
Vines poured from the shattered windows as if residents.
This abandonment certainly set a new precedence.
As I poured over, something caught my attention.
There, in the background, was a path no one had mentioned.
It seemed as if it was my old friend.
I had to make sure.
Sure enough, it seemed as if my road had found its way out behind the house.
I knew I should keep moving so I left as quick as a mouse.
There was something different about this path, though.
More crooked, broken, and cracked.
The sun above me turned a shade of gloom.
Something was wrong.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, nor find the words to say.
My sunny disposition began turning gray.