Tuesday, January 22, 2008


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.

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Sunday, January 13, 2008

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


Memory Shards

Wallet with Blue

Honra A Tu Padre

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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.

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