Passage Angel
An angel adorning the entry to a dark passageway in Riga’s Old Town. Probably dates from the 12th or 13th century. Happier now than it can ever remember, though it’s not overly pleased with the iron bosoms.
It’s images like this, not that it’s technically all that great, that make me glad I photograph things. My photographs become a sort of reference library, so I don’t have to remember everything I’ve seen and done. But the remain alive – as vibrant as the moment they were taken when I pull them out and look at them.
We’re both keeping diaries of sorts of our days. Yours with images and mine with words. When I look back at past entries, I sometimes think to myself, “did that really happen?” Memory is a funny things.
poietes
02/09/2012 at 6:52 am
Funny thing, no ssssss
poietes
02/09/2012 at 6:52 am
I have journaled a lot of my life, maybe 20% of it, which, is still a lot of writing and introspection and commentary. And yes, the little things that happened that have not stuck in our memories… that are there… and the things that did not happen quite the way we remember.
I used to reread my journals every so often, but I have to say they’ve not called me now for 10 years or more… wonder what that means… I suspect it’s that I’ve learned to live in the ‘now’ so I don’t spend much time looking back, unless I’m plumbing my past for inspiration.
Titirangi Storyteller
12/09/2012 at 11:29 am