Empty-Full

Half and Half - Sunday Bookstore Pondering


The latte was good, made with half and half per my request. . . none of that thin, watered down stuff "called milk" for me. Life's too short at this point to waste taste buds on faux milk. The homemade chocolate chip cookie was equally good.

What's left now is a memory – a very cold and breezy Sunday afternoon and me huddled up in a bookstore overlooking the square. The music in there was way too loud for actual bookstore hanging out and the pondering and life's little awakenings that should take place. . . or maybe I am too distracted, easily. . . but no! . . . wait a minute . . . being followed around by people breathing down my neck, making me too full of their presence – that's distracting! People on my heels, over my shoulder, in my ear – I just don't need that.

I want to be empty enough of them so that I can find and feel what it is that I'm looking for. And I am always looking for something. A word. A phrase. A color. A shape. A shadow. A cloud. A scent. A sound. Those things fill me. But yesterday, they were not to be found – in the cup, the saucer, or the bookstore.

Memories on Doorsteps

Cobalt Glasses with Disposable Camera, Film Roll, and China Shard


The first time I visited Oak Blvd. in Waveland, I was inspired to stop and get out of my vehicle and introduce myself (something I don't normally do as I'm fairly shy) to a lady sitting by her drive in the humid August sun one year after Katrina. She was tending to a few flowers which had announced themselves beautifully within the overgrown Katrina-wracked yard and from that moment, we have been in touch. I have visited her and her mother each time I have been to the coast and wouldn't miss the chance to chat with them for anything.
Considering all the "things" Katrina removed from people's lives, friendships seemed to grow in place of things. Like little tokens lying on the doorsteps to a lost home, friendships sprouted from devastation and took away some of the pain. I have made some wonderful friends because of Katrina and though I lost a dream I had because of her, these friends are a beauty that can't be washed away.


Windows to Memories


Blue Daze


Songs in the Key of Loss


Slide Show


Blue Catfish


Table Saw


Box of Dreams


Beautiful Past


Montreal


Memory Shards


Wallet with Blue


Honra A Tu Padre

Echoes from the Mutable Land

Vault Handle


Bay St. Louis - Beach Blvd. :: Nov. 2007


What I've seen is not what those who went through Katrina saw in those initial days of total devastation.
But what I have seen has changed me. I cannot forget Katrina nor ignore her. She has touched me with her destruction so that I am forever inclined to capture her remains. . . almost the nymph, Echo, Katrina's voice remains
though her actual body is dead.


Vault Door


Vault Wall on Beach Blvd.