|
|
|
She reaches through the fire and night, through the dark to the light, while we dwell out of sight: in the blur and the haze, the mess and the daze, with the memories that fade of the dreams that we made. Darkness, for her, is a fresh and cool shade. And the sun is always where she wants it to be.
For years, I tried to ride the elevator all the way up to cloud 9. Whenever it stopped, I would get excited as a little kid about finally reaching that great place: and I grew more and more frustrated when all I ever reached was the 9th floor. These days, I am following a new strategy. I am taking the stairs, and every single step feels amazing.
The friends gathered in the morning. The girls had brought fruit and caringly arranged it into a small sensual masterpiece. Its mere sight broke through the haze of a grey November day like tree roots through concrete. A Touch of Nature.
In a dignified old building in the heart of Montréal’s Old Port, a table is set up with fruit and vegetables. Its colours bring life to the room long before the first guests arrive: apples, leaves, pumpkins, bananas, lemons. With all the technology and urban worlds they’ve created, humans retain that sense of natural beauty, that desire to create colour, a hint of the great outdoors, to bring it into the labyrinths of the cities. Soon, the wedding will begin.
We all spend time out of mind. It’s a state where time itself loses its meaning, where boundaries and spaces give way to a steady, even flow of sensation. It steals control of the body away from the mind and ego. When I put on these headphones to mix the tracks, and I watch the crowd move to the music, I become one with the world, and the world dissolves. The music pulsates and drives me ever forward.
Years and spaces now lie between us and those final days in Germany. Even then, the lines on her face talked to me about where we were headed, and when I look back now, it seems like they’re still speaking. Daring me to reach out to her through the screen. And I feel like I can. She never ages. She once told me she wanted to be forever young. I sit on a baggage trolley, my laptop bag and suitcase serving as my back rests. Next to me is another trolley, it’s my night stand and has my backpack with my camera on it. I am at Heathrow airport, England, in a camp made of suitcases, trolleys, bags and personal belongings, and this will be my home for the night. In the snow chaos that is devouring Europe this December, countless passengers are stranded at airports like this, and today, Saturday the 18th, all of Terminal 5 – the home of British Airways – is shut down.
Whenever I look into the mirror, thousands of stories look back at me, and I often stop and ponder. I ponder how many parallel universes there are with me in it, and in how many ways I’ve already died in them. I find it hard to understand that all of my life is just part of the same world, and that I’m still around. This is a scene from the movie “The Intruder”, a haunting story by Jacques Bouchard, made in Montreal in 2008. More pictures from that set will follow.
This must have been the foggiest day of the entire year. The air was so humid, cold and still that even the birds had fallen silent. He had given up trying to light his cigar, and instead just stood there, pondering his next move. She was pissed, no question about that. But could he risk catching up with her and letting Baker slip away? Suddenly, he missed the days when he was a man with nothing to lose.
Mom and dad cheered from the edge of the field, and he was trembling with excitement. This was it. The great day. The racket felt heavy in his hands, heavier than usual, and today, for the first time, he felt the uncertainty that came with something new beginning.
She shines, and bounces, and smiles, and dances |
|
|
Copyright © 2012 Knowing Matt Eastwood • Mood Photographer. - All Rights Reserved |
