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A collection of stories
The Stranger
For a brief moment, we were connected. The vastness of your life story billowing up behind you, as your future is still neatly folded, waiting to be revealed. In a world of billions of people, our lives were interwoven at this one juncture in time,
when you looked at me,
and I looked at you.
I can't help but wonder at those stories still yet unfolding. I wonder if you could possibly know there is a stranger out in the world who thinks of you from time to time, and sends positive energy your way; a little spark of good cheer zipping through time and space until it finds you, completely immersing itself into your being with warmth and energy, maybe even causing a smile to play upon your face and contentment to ease your soul.
I wonder if any of us can ever know the impact we make on others as our stories weave in and out through the tapestry of humanity.
I wonder if we could try.
Existence in the Corner of a Billowing World
time swooshes in
and by
in a rush
swallowing days
weeks
decades
let me move slow
slower
pulling
in
the
fabric
of
time
close
closer
let me waste not a second on any worry smaller than the universe expanding
let me gulp in days
hours
moments
the morning alarm
and chores
and traffic
my moving body
and art
and music
my loves
and not so loves
my dreams and my hopes
gulp it all in
let me
ravenously
consume
my
life
An Absence of Light
The sun reaches down in a playful mood, painting wispy, ethereal shadows across her realm. Smoky forms lingering past the moment languidly, as if they wanted to stop time. A dreamy yearning for what was or will be.
Other times the sun, in her exuberance, shines brightly on her muse, generating a bold contrast that seems to command us to take notice. Silhouettes proudly declaring their presence. They are here! They are now! Be with them in the moment.
A diverging effect from the filtering of light depending on our mood or disposition. A chance to reflect on our ever-evolving balancing act of perspective and how the absence of light can create stories out of nothing...and everything.
Tiny Large Things
I like the feeling these photos give,
a grotesque masquerade
of tiny large things
charading by stance
our significant insignificance
or
insignificant significance
either way
we are here
each a little prince
of our own circumstance
Day Breaks in Kadıköy
street dogs ramble about
ready to stake their claim
plopping down in front of their favorite shop door
mascot and guard in one
a man paces at the corner on his phone
Turkish tumbling through the air
reaching intended ears
and others
tourists hurry by, heads down
checking phones for directions
or comfort
dragging heavy luggage across uneven cobblestones
adding a rhythm of thumps to the symphony of the city
an old man sets up shop on the side of the road
ready to shine the shoes of Kadıköy
a younger man walks up, maybe his son,
he sits down and places his grubby converse on the perch
the old man ignores him, engrossed in his newspaper
a practice in patience
motors whirling, vespas honking
busy
children playing
a stray dog begs at the coffee stand across the street
no luck
he comes my way but I only have coffee
I give him a pet and wish him good fortune
iyi köpek
the wind suddenly blows napkins like confetti
celebrating the morning
I quickly steady my coffee cup
treasures must be protected
two men stand in a doorway to my left; smoking
one finishes, walks to a table
crushes the butt in an ashtray then quickly lights another
he sits
inhaling his strength
throngs wander by at various speeds and dispositions
becoming anonymous in this city is easy
a gift to be savored
a man in a wheelchair and a woman with a cane cross paths
each finding it difficult to make their way
each finding a way regardless
there is a stray dog barking,
defending his territory against an intruder
- a police car driving up the sidewalk
eventually, reluctantly, the guard of Kadıköy grants them passage
a woman covered head to toe walks lovingly with a man in a t-shirt
two men walk by
arm in arm
love or friendship
maybe both
the day preps
we will all venture forth
each of us to different lives
different motives
different outcomes
and yet
we were all here
on this corner
on this day
on this morning
as day breaks
in Kadıköy
You Will Be Found
I found myself once, emerging. Not only from the isolation of the pandemic, but also from my own fears and insecurities. As I slowly began the process of stepping forward, there remained a lingering unease and trepidation about gathering with others. I ventured into public cautiously. Slowly. Perhaps even separated and alone. I longed to be near others but held back. Unsure and concerned. Nevertheless, my spirit forced me on knowing that life is intended to be shared and experienced with others. I took comfort in knowing that each step of this somewhat difficult journey is necessary and I believed that by continuing on, I would be found. Found by new faces, new smiles, new friends, new experiences. As each step brought me closer to this realization, my heart began to warm, my smile began to grow and my fear subsided, slowly morphing into exuberant delight as I embraced the beauty of life again.
We will be found.
A Rainy Night in Firenze
Thunder echoes down the Arno River; a strong gust of wind accompanies her powerful proclamation.
Never one to keep a secret, she rumbles through Firenze murmuring her promise of a downpour soon to come.
A call to action for savvy street singers quickly making their way to Mercato del Porcellino, knowing shortly they will have a captive audience under its protective, medieval roof. Strong operatic voices reverberate off ancient walls, bounding down cobblestone streets and narrow alleys, swirling around Neptune and Perseus creating a siren call to those still huddled under soaked and straining umbrellas.
Unable to resist the hypnotic melody I let the spell draw me in,
the notes reaching around and over and through me
as the voices crescendo and waft and unify the enraptured gathering.
A smile beans from under my now drenched hair to find myself here.
in this moment.
in this place.
Light pours from a bar across the street as a man walks to the doorframe lighting a cigarette, rain pixellating his image into a mosaic of everyday life.
A window frames faces that seem to have crawled out of a renaissance painting and gathered on this magical night to revive their bygone spirits with boundless scoops of gelato.
The little pig statue, finally free from throngs of tourists, seems eager to bless the occasional hand that now reaches for his snout as he quickly bestows his good fortune and foretells a return enchanted Firenze.
a husband holds an umbrella for his wife three steps ahead...neither protected yet they jaunt away happily.
umbrellas by the dozen race by, some stop, laughing at the moment, to be caught in a storm
in this beautiful city
on this beautiful night.
and through it all
the thunder links herself
to the music
and the crowd
and the rhythmic beating rain
knowing
she played her part
well.
The Jump
floating in a world of my fancy
arranging things how I like them
jump
reach
fall
however you get there
you do you
Becoming
I forage my pictures for hints of me; I find her sometimes
in the eyes of a stranger when they smile
and when they don't,
in walls that have witnessed a parade of humanity; sheltering in and from their secrets for centuries,
in puddles that reflect a grandeur far above their humble station,
in ice cream cones thrown or tossed in a heap of
joy
or despair,
In old, graffitied walls with torn paste-ups and messages of phrophecy to rival religious texts,
In ceilings that tempt me to religion and confirm my belief that art is a spiritual experience,
in windows revealing their inner sanctuary, and shadows concealing theirs.
All these scenes, absorbed and consumed,
pondered and embraced,
slowly integrate and transform
who I was
who I will be.
Subtle hints of me,
slowly becoming me
Fleeting Scenes
i'm collecting fleeting scenes
through a car window
absorbing each moment
creating stories i'll never hear
from lives i'll never know
this world so big
and the people so many
...and yet
our paths did cross
through windows underground:
tiny fleeting glimpses of passing human stories
the movement. energy. fleeting glances from strangers you will only ever see that one time your paths crossed in an underground tunnel. each of us living out our own human stories. complete lives with love, hate, kindness, compassion, jealousy, insecurity, strength, and all the many emotions and traits that reside in each of us. those feelings that make our entire world and can feel so overwhelming
...but are just a glimpse and a moment
in the eyes of a stranger.