At the bridge of the failed painter, I stoop and check the sagging timbers before placing one foot, then the other, on this sorry decrepitude. It cracks and pops like a first fleet ship, but the sounds are not ominous; more the rattled wheezing of an invalid friend. I proceed with care,sucking the thumb pricked on its splintery balustrade. Ahead, lies the gate and welltrod path and, branching like spider veins, the merest hints of tracks―overgrown, leading to a wilderness filled with possibilities. I stand and consider. Buttoning my duffel coat—a veteran of the moth wars, I step off the path, and into the weeds.
©L.M.Noonan
© L.M.Noonan 2009
I took this photo during the modelling of the 'unties' session recently and couldn't resist embellishing it somewhat.
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5 comments:
Great, to see you having a bit of fun.
oh I had to have a second look and it helped to read your words. I thought the brain was playing tricks.
We are under seige! no voice...or one that comes out like a frog or the exorcist. stuffed, sneezy, wheezy, drippy, achy.
This morning I asked do you want coffee or a hot rum? ...coffee it is.
I enjoy your photographs, the models, the way you pose and what you do with the photos.
That is so freakin' cool.
Thankyou my friends, I shall try to stay more focused in future.
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