Gold embraced the pavement.
Manhattan’s skyline pierced the clouds, swarms of gulls drawing sutures between buildings.
Icarus could have flown unscathed across the horizon, if only he had adjusted upwards a couple degrees.
I’m glad you asked.
Flutter
Rain pours down the windows in sheets. Sustained notes drift out of the speakers, flowing over the cabinets and onto the floor, leaving warmth in their wake.
I’m lying on my back for five minutes before I need to leave.
A door shuts outside my apartment, somebody vanishing into the storm, perhaps for another somebody.
My heartbeat quickens in the darkness, a twinge of euphoric anxiety crawling across my skin.
The two empty water glasses on the bedside table remind me why.
The clock tells me five minutes have passed. I put my boots back on and turn the music off. Wind tears through the gaps between buildings, shrieking at the streets, the rain at its mercy.
Hood up and headphones on, I close the door behind me, and step out onto the sidewalk.
Just somebody vanishing into the storm for somebody else.
Specifically – you.
_
I used to focus on the blackness between the stars.
Now I want to burn brighter than a supernova.
Fog.
I was late at the office, shivered more than I should have on the walk home, cursing myself for not wearing a sweater.
I didn’t have anything in mind for the evening, but the fog was beautiful and I figured fuck it, why not, mounted the 35 1.4 and went back into the haze.
The night was dense…a blanket of fog covered the Brooklyn waterfront; empty streets and quiet corners were too tempting.
I felt a tap on my right leg close to midnight.
“Want any company?”
I wouldn’t say no.
“I feel the need to take a walk”
I’ll meet you outside your place.
Branches brushed my shoulders as I passed the church across from her apartment.
Her lips met mine as we said hello.
I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.
“I felt spontaneous, which is unusual for me.”
I wasn’t complaining.
She’s going to laugh at me when she reads this.
I really don’t mind.
Ebb & Flow – a note from the author.
I don’t think it’s any secret to anyone that knows me that I’ve gone through a pretty long hiatus from photography. Between coping with a job requiring long hours, feeling disaffected by my surroundings for a couple years, and an overall lack of inspiration, I fell into a routine of not carrying a camera around. Even when I did make an effort to have a camera of some sort on me, I wasn’t able to push through the haze of indifference to the medium that had overtaken me.
I felt that if I wasn’t making “Extraordinary” pictures, emphasis on the capital E, that pictures wouldn’t be worth making at all. The sense of urgency, and, honestly, lust for capturing my own experiences was somehow lost on me.
Little by little in the past few months, the door has slowly become unlocked again, and I’ve found myself thoroughly enjoying seeing again. The façade of emotional turmoil that I convinced myself I needed in order to make work began to crumble away, and light slowly started to seep in through the cracks.
Relearning to see, and love that light has been instrumental in getting me to the place I am today, as I sit in my apartment after a 10 hour day, thinking about all the things I want to do next, whether that be with photography, music, or writing.
This is my promise to myself to be the best I can be, to embrace the challenges that throw themselves my way, to relish the experiences that come along with them, and share those experiences with those I care about.
It’s going to be a good year.
Yours,
Chris
Turkey Leg.
We walked into the hot shop at around 8:30.
Fire dancers performed in front of the glory holes while the crowd milled around with plastic cups of Sixpoint. A song about broads in Atlanta blared through the speakers as we found Charlie coming out of the bar. He was supposed to be working the beer table, but the demo team needed an extra set of hands.
She pointed out that someone had scrawled “MEAT” on the ground; on the other side of the bench we could see the crime-scene chalk rendition of a turkey leg.
After much back and forth, along with a couple close calls keeping everything hot, the drumstick was puntied onto the bone and popped into the annealer.
We killed another beer and went down the street to Lowlands; where I had a feeling Luke would be bartending. Sure enough, I heard my name called out as we walked in. After a brief introduction, words flowed as freely as they did quickly, and two hours disappeared into thin air.
It wasn’t supposed to be a late night, even though it already was.
A mile and a half, and 6 neighborhoods later, the car came to a stop. We got out, walked for half a block, and stepped inside. She called the elevator and as the doors opened I glanced to make sure my settings were right.
I hope some of these actually end up in focus.
We half-ran down the hallway to her door, the shutter chirping along with each step.
She slid her key into the door and we disappeared into thin air.
Christopher Lange. 