"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."
- Henry David Thoreau
The light was already slicing hot as I turned towards home this morning after walking the dogs. It popped up surfaces in ways that made everything that I was gazing at look as if it had been written in braille. After closing the shutters tight to keep the prying fingers of the sun out of the rooms that had cooled in the night, I put on my straw hat, grabbed my camera and headed back out to swim in the last of the morning, hunting for the traces trail.
Remi was at the garden, giving a talk sponsored by a community association in this tiny village for those interested in photography. I would have tagged along but for fear of making him feel self-conscious. He had already decided that his main goal would be to help people find a specific photo rather than just blindly grabbing at the whole. I suppose that was in my mind too as I darted between shady spots to look quietly and hopefully, start to see. For when I do, I stop thinking and start feeling without touching...the coarseness of the lime-wash and crumbling stone, the sweet kiss of les petales de roses...In the 95° heat, I could almost hear their crackle and hiss, these things alive to me yet silent. How I am delighted with the treasures found in my texture hunt.
Bon Weekend tout le monde...and a heart-felt welcome to all of you that are new here!