All a Blur

Parma Street Blur | Mark Lindsay

The confluence of major life events has had my head spinning with a special kind of disorientation. It is hard to keep track of where I've been, where I'm going, and exactly where I am. Contemporary life does not allow us to feel the passing of loved ones, nor appreciate aging and illness. More likely, it merely forces us into task-based activity.

Banks, lawyers, doctors, creditors, insurance agents, advisors, and accountants. Oh my. I dream about them and not in a good way. When someone dies, gets sick, or infirm, it activates an entire industry, like switching on an silent-and-ready, gigantic machine. Those of us left in mere mortal state navigate through the morass, unable to deal with the actuality of loss. There are too many forms to fill.

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Un Lupo in Rivolta Non Si Tocca

Un Lupo in Rivolta Non Si Tocca | Mark Lindsay

One doesn't touch a wolf in the midst of revolt. Most every day I look through my images to see what resonates with me. Today I stopped at this photo taken in Parma a few years ago. Italian graffiti is so much more imaginative than what we generally find in America. It's angrier, wittier, and often more poignant. Don't touch a wolf in the midst of revolt. Words of wisdom with a hint of Italian drama.

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The Ghost of Cartier-Bresson

Street Musician, Parma | Mark Lindsay

I find a moment. My finger searches for the shutter release. My stomach flutters. My breath softens, I try not to shake. Something is happening that will never happen again. Ever. I need to get it. I need to get an image.

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A Dawn's View

Cold Dawn, Parma | Mark Lindsay

I had to rise at 4:00 AM this morning, earlier than is my habit. The morning light is lazy this time of year, not getting around to lighting our neighborhood until after 7:00. As I write this the trees outside my window are nothing but dark shadows looming over a dim sky. It is a time of day that brings out the optimist in me. The world awakens to all possibilities.

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