Unexpected Hauntings

Venetian Ghosts #24 | Mark Lindsay

They tell me that the past and the future are mere illusions—this is what I am told by the great teachers of wisdom and spirit. I am told that the only thing that we really have is the present moment. The here and now. Yet, the ghosts continue to visit me at the most inopportune times. They are the swirling winds of my past, the floating ghosts of this life that I know.

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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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A Blink

Crossing Market Street | Mark Lindsay

Most people would tell you that, in a catastrophe, they'd try to save their photographs above all other material possessions. It's probably what I would do. Photos are symbolic of our memories. They are the physical manifestations of the important moments of our life. Yet, to equate them with life, is something of a trap.

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Lost and Found

#28 from the series, Desolation's Comfort | Mark Lindsay

I have boxes of old snapshots. These days I find myself rescuing every old snapshot that comes my way. Once prized—people always say that the first possession they'd save in a fire is their photos—so many photos eventually find their way to flea markets, antique shops, and sadly, landfill. We try in vain, with our camera, to forever capture these moments, only to find each and every image is also of this mortal world. And so it ages and fades just as we and our memories do.

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Moment of Convergence

Street Convergence, San Rafael | Mark Lindsay

A delivery truck speeds by. A man crosses the street with a bag lunch. In the distance, a woman and child hold hands. In the foreground, a tattoo parlor waits for its next customer, reflecting the convergence of activities in its shop window.

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