Fermeture definitive; the sorry state of affairs for far too many honest enterprises in 2012. Definitive closure. I personally am not sorry to see the back of this year. There was something about it not quite right. Maybe it was the crisis but maybe something more.
2012 was a transition year for me more than many others. Paris seemed to stand still and my life appeared to be on hold.
I did get one thing clear; if I'm to get anywhere I need to concentrate, and preferably on one thing at a time and seriously.
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They call people like me butterflies, constantly flitting from one thing to another.
Yesterday I wrote two poems, almost exactly 24 hours ago. Perhaps I'll write another one now; perhaps not. And there you go. What has poetry got to do with Paris photography? But I needed that break from the intensity. Or is this piece a break from the passion of the poetry. It's hard to tell.
Which is the bread and butter, and which is the jam? What came first, and which supports which? Does a poem make a poet, or is it the other way around? Did Paris make me or did I make of Paris my saviour? Did Paris set me free, or am I begging of her to do so.
Fermeture definitive; you've just reached it. Sometimes I just need a ramble. There'll be more. Tonight it was hard. You know what I mean? The End for now.
And why not...