This is the house they built next to the neighborhood dock where I keep my kayak. Kept. It was stolen awhile back. What amazes me about the house is the full grown palms. What does someone pay for a full grown palm?
I've been carrying around a Leica or two or four wherever I go. I just carry them, usually. It is like an exercise. Since Ili drives me around, sometimes I take pictures out the car window. I try to find poetry in the flow of scenery as we pass, but what I end up with is mostly prose. I figure, though, if I keep at it, something is bound to click. I've decided that I love my Leicas. They are the perfect camera for daily life. The Sony A7 (any of the models) is a much better buy, but I don't know how to love them. I like them, but I can't love them. Every day, though, I carry a Leica.
I'm still tired most of the time. I have realized why, I think. It takes me ten times the energy to do anything now. By day's end, I am just worn out. Hence, the lack of pictures.
And everything else. Time, they say. Yea, yea.
What, once I'm back among the throng, will I photograph? I keep looking at photo books and at life. 1963. That was the year to be a photographer. The fifties, of course, but something changed in 1963.
I would settle, however, to be able to photograph again in the '70s.
I would settle now to be able to photograph again.
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