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Whispers

September 25, 2006


Standing alone at the edge of the lake. A photo workshop invades. I hear whispers. I’m not using what I “should” be using, or “could” be using. Elephants through a glass house. The air is sharp, cuts and I feel frail in this environment where nature clearly has the upper hand. Around me hundreds upon hundreds of images are being made, or at least consumed. I wait for the light.
Now, shouting, “shoot with the light,” “shoot against the light,” two groups have formed amid the pack. The dominant wolf has yet to emerge.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m DONE walking around,” as tripod legs crash to the ground.
“Shoot, shoot the tafa or tofu or whatever that is,” a voice pleads
I wait.

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