Maybe there is, out there, only one story to be told, one kind of day to be had. Oh sure, our responses may vary. Easy to botch things, less easy to make repairs. Easiest to churn out dreary thoughts, to just go through the motions or emotions, reacting, until bones get brittle and there is no energy left for much of anything.
The other day I was looking at my blogroll with eyes half closed and I thought – time to leave a comment. And I did. And in my mind’s eye, I saw the person whose blog I was addressing. The entire thing was like a conversation. Person posts, I respond, etc.
Today I was looking at blogs again, this time with eyes mostly opened and I came across my comment. On someone else’s blog. It made sense to leave it there. Even though I thought I was leaving it elsewhere!
One idea, provoked by any number of blogs. One conversation, one post written in answer to all days.
I took only two photos today. Why so few? I left the loft for work early, came home late. Before leaving, I looked out the window and saw this:
Day passes, I walk home encumbered with my camera and I think – I really should take another photo and so, as I cross West Wash, I take this:
Same angle, same almost everything. Sure, the weather reversed, the sun went down, the lights came on.
But ultimately, it was the same building, photographed yet again. Not for the first time, second time or last time.