Monday, 11 April 2011

Make

I want to write and can't, wrung so dry by the small, relentless, tedious mental calisthenics of work that there are no words left. It hurts. So I find myself photographing shop-window signs and graffiti, clutching at found words, tossing in play-words.  Place, self, colour, word: take a picture, make a pattern of perceptions, give me some reflection of existence.

4 comments:

Dale said...

:-(

Hugs. I wish I could fix it.

Lucy said...

What you do do is still wonderful. But it's hard, I know.

Rosie said...

work is such a nuisance when it saps your artistic energy...I do sympathise

liliannattel said...

I'm sorry it's so hard though out of it come wonderful photos.