photos

This is the only photo I took in Prague that feels like a 'real' artistic photograph. A temporary tunnel beneath building works, bright winter light creating silhouettes and somehow bouncing around the bodies enough to highlight their footsteps. A suggestion of a cross. Two people walking in stride, at tempo, synchronized yet distinct. Captured. Moving.

Living with a photographer, living with an incredible photographer, you learn to look out for exceptional moments. Trust your instincts. Don't resist the pull. Be led by the impulse. Be taken over by the joy of seeing something beautiful in the world. Show people what you see that they might have missed.

I see every step from Rajska Zahrada to your ground floor apartment. Odd-one-out surname by the buzzer. Long pause. Crutches. Hugging a version of you that was somehow too small. Your favourite photos framed on the kitchen wall. Homemade schnapps. A card from many (not opened until I left as you knew you would cry), a present from me, opened and laid out on your quilt. Later, by message: "Can't wait to wear it in spring."

You were so happy to see me free from many of my old worries. The anxieties and habits and traps that kept me static whilst you moved and grew all those years ago.

You used to take photos of me to show me how you saw me: versions of myself I had yet to apprehend. Tortured poet. Peaceful partner. A musician at home in himself.

You didn't need a camera that day. You knew the journey had let me see myself the way I needed to.

Originally posted on 24th January 2024