An Angry Statue

I'm thinking and almost feeling the wrath and the anger emanating from this statue! It was shot in Poznan. But anyway, it's not about the location, but the emotions conveyed.

There's a sense of foreboding. It's as if something major is about to erupt, like the building up to a crescendo in an opera. Something's boiling within and growing in heat and strength. It's like strength being summoned to be released soon, very soon. There's obviously something that will be the target of this pent up energy.

He's looking dangerous. The finger is pointing perhaps at the object or the subject of his anger. Is it anger over being hurt, or perhaps he is defending his city, the last man standing between the enemy forces and his beloved birthplace? 

That trident looks dangerous too. Like it is ready to do its job, to fulfil its very purpose of existence. For it is in doing what it was created that the trident actualises its purpose. The trident looks sharp. And ready. 

Waiting

She's waiting. 

And just maybe there's someone else who's waiting, waiting for a girl like her, someone to love. 

The one who only looks but doesn't make the move is a chicken. Just looking out from a two-dimensional picture and not daring to enter the three-dimensional world of love and relationship.

I find my thoughts drawn to the song by Foreigner -

"I've been waiting for a girl like you, to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you, a love that will survive. I've been waiting for someone new, to make me feel alive. Yeah, waiting for a girl like you, to come into my life."

Most people yearn for such a love, for such a life. They wait and wait for the right one to come along.  And when the right one comes, they are frozen in time, and wait, and wait, and wait. 

May you find true love. Stop waiting. Start living. Start loving. 

Friends

Friends are who you want and need on a journey of life.

Not “Facebook friends” which may number in the thousands - those are a brutal abuse of the term “friends”. No offence, but you know what I mean.

Not “fair weather friends” either - the ones who flock around you like seagulls because you’re having your fish and chips. The ones who are ought to get some benefit from you.

I mean true friends. And such friends are as difficult to find as diamonds in your backyard. But there are such friends around. Your spouse is supposed to be such a friend. I know this isn’t true all the time in a world of infidelity and divorces. But there are marriages of love and friendship that outlast the seasons of life.

If you have one or two friends who are truly friends, consider yourself blessed.

James Taylor sung it best -

“When you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand
and nothing, whoa, nothing is going right. Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there to brighten up even your darkest nights. You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am, I’ll come running to see you again. Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, you've got a friend.”

I appreciate my friends.

Chickens on the Menu

Chickens are on the menu. 

But where are the customers? 

The chairs invites openly, desperately, forlornly, but there are no takers. But wait, there's potential for something to develop. There's a tourist staring, pondering, perhaps weighing up the costs of calories or the price of lunch in Polish Zloty. 

Me? I've had my lunch and I'm a happy man. But today, chicken's not on my menu. 

The Magic of Typing

No, I don’t mean magic in the strict sense, but the feeling of typewriting on an old typewriter.

It’s nostalgic. It brings me back in time, the sense of it rather, for no one can go back in time. It’s in the mind, and the mood.

It’s clickety-clackety loud. That makes my typewriter alive!

It’s imposing. It imposes an ordering of words on the page. It stamps the author’s authority with every click and clack of the keys. It’s something you don’t get typing on an iPad.

It’s just different. It’s unique. It’s rare.

I think it cool.

Flight

Flying is a wonderful experience. The first time is always exciting, unnerving, and memorable.

But after countless flights, both short haul and long haul, the novelty washes off, like ink in the rain. You get used to it. You take things for granted. What increased your heart rate now is just a part of travel from one city to another.

We take all too many things for granted. The very notion of flying through the air at hundreds of kilometres per hour belongs to the mental asylum a century ago. It takes so many inventions and innovations, all assembled logically and precisely to become an airplane. It is mastery of technology of the highest order.

Flight. I took my first flight when I was twelve. Yes, it was magical then. And yes, right now, I’m grateful for the tremendous value of flight.

Amazing.

Contrasts

I have a love for strong colours and contrasts.

This I knew from the day I learned drawing and painting more than two decades ago. Since then the paint brushes have laid silent.

I grew up.

But I never lost the love for contrasts in art and in pictures. It was as recent as two months ago that I took a child-like delight for black and white photography. And with that, came the surge and the urge to take photos in this medium.

As I blog on, I'll be posting originals, photographs that feels special and meaningful to me, and I hope  that you will enjoy the experience too. This blog is a combination of my love for pictures and words.

Life is short. Take time to enjoy and reflect on the meaning of life. This is my journey.