new photo blog

i started this blog in 2006, and it's shifted along with my interests through the years. it's been witness to a lot of learning for me...

still, i feel that i need a home for my photography -- so from now on, i'll be posting my pictures on the journal on my reworked website. if you like my photos, you might decide to follow me there!

my first post is here -- check it out!

as for this blog, i'm not sure what will happen. i don't think i'm willing to let it go, and certainly i'll keep it as an archive, but i need some time to figure it out.

for those of you that pop in from time to time, thanks for the visits and encouragement.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

not 271/365

this isn't tuesday's photo -- i took a few but eventually decided against uploading them.

instead, i'm uploading a shot from another day, and posting it in this position 271/365, because i wanted to jot down a story from tuesday night... not extraordinary, just for me to remember:

not 271/365
like it? click it!
after a 20-hour stay, i felt shattered as i left the hospital. i wasn't paying too much attention to things around me, when i became conscious of a voice.

'excuse me, do you have the time?'

it dawned on me that it was the second time i heard the question, but i hadn't realized it was directed towards me.

i turned and saw a young gypsy woman with a little boy, leaving the hospital grounds, headed towards the rest of her family.

'i'm sorry -- i didn't realize you were talking to me... i was lost in thought. it's 10:11.'

'were you in the hospital?'


'what for?'

'my mom.'

'what's wrong with her?'

'she's in pain.'

'i'm sorry. my husband is there too.'

'what's wrong?'

'trouble with his pancreas.'

'i'm sorry -- i think that's a difficult situation.'
immediately, i wished i hadn't said so.

'everyone i've mentioned it to says the same thing. he's in pain, too.'

then she looked at me tensely... 'do you think he'll be all right?'

i fought my innate pessimism and said, confidently, 'of course he will!'

i guess i wasn't very convincing because she said, in an emotional voice, 'i don't understand why god lets these things happen.'

i was so tired and considered letting it go, but, no, i couldn't... 'if there was a god, he wouldn't.'

she turned to me and said, 'you know, that thing you said.. you're right.'

i smiled and said, 'good night, and perastika*'.

she turned to leave ... 'perastika to you too.'

*greek meaning, loosely, 'may the illness pass.'

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