Thursday, October 25, 2012


It was one Wednesday morning in London town, when Sharron and I were sipping rose lemonade in a vintage camera coffee house. We took photographs of old cameras with new cameras and I took a photograph of myself (or "a naked selfie", as Andrew would call it). My complexion was pallid, my eyelids smeared with Kohl, my overgrown fringe slightly parted. The fatigue is clear, the resignation obvious, the grief apparent.

I didn't delete that photograph, as I should have. It didn't go with the rest of the online travel propaganda, all those check-ins and photographs which would suggest endless days of fun-filled adventure. Then again, perhaps that's why I kept it. Inasmuch as the photograph reveals something grim and truthful, I know its meaning will transform itself in time. One day, I'll look and I won't see his damage. I'll look and I'll see something else.


  1. As you say, over time your perception of this image will alter. Yet, despite the grief and heartache, you're still looking good El.

    Hope you had a swell time in London despite everything else going on.

    Also, please use a photo of one of these old cameras in your next FP or C&CM post? Kthnx.

  2. Yes, yes! It was tremendous, despite the fits of sadness.

    What's your email? I'll send you all the pics from Aperture.