Thursday, 16 June 2011

Do Doves Cry?

IMG_7551, originally uploaded by Paris Set Me Free.

Inspiration and inclinations to poeticise have been pretty rare over the last few years, and I tried to convince myself that this was because I was happier than before and, needing heartache and angst to spur me into bittersweet poetic motion, that this was, on the whole, a Good Thing.

This explanation doesn't please me much, however, thereby negating the whole premiss which, on the other hand, does place a wry smile upon my lips.

Whatever, the point is I'm just not writing, poetry at least, and I'd be interested to know why.

I know why. It's because I'm photographing and chronicling my Paris life. I should have realised I couldn't survive without emptying my head of a million smouldering thoughts and sensations one way or another. Poetry hasn't fitted the bill recently; pictures have done just fine though. A shift of creative focus but no reduction in intensity. I've temporarily flipped channels, but the song remains the same.

My creative outlet could very easily have been music ~ I loved it as soon as I discovered it ~ but I soon realised that the pleasure of enjoying other's mellifluous efforts far outweighed any cacophonous attempts of my own to produce musical sounds. The graveyard of unused guitars, synthesizers,

And then words came naturally, and photographic images also. It seemed that my pen or tapping fingers were being supplied from an inexhaustible reservoir of pleasantly purple prose. Rhymes and rhythms had apparenty been included as an option.

And then the pictures. With one twitch of my hand I could capture a universe of emotions on a sliver of light-sensitive film.

I've rambled enough. At least my mind can still do that. My earthly body has been slumped on a giant stationary worm in a lair called Musée d'Orsay station, thanks to some morons' handiwork somewhere down the line.

Without which you wouldn't be reading these lines, it's as simple as that. Whether that's a positive thing is really not for me to say. No point crying about it. No crocodile tears are gonna get this thing moving any faster. And as for pigeons pretending to be doves, well hey, I think I've been doing that most of my life. Either that or my sheepish words have a wolfish twinkle in their eye. Y'all have a nice day, now ~ "Aaooowwwwwww..."!

(A Paris iPhone street photograph by Sab Will for the 'Paris and I' photo blog @ )

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