Not long ago, I did something I never expected to do: I bought a photograph of four men whose names I’ll probably never know.
Since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about photography and history. Various other related topics have also been floating in and out of my consciousness, although they haven’t been haunting my dreams. Last night, I dreamed I owned a horse, something I do not aspire to do when awake. In my dream, I wanted to give my horse to a friend, but I didn’t know if he had enough resources to provide room and board for it. Nothing to do with photography, I thought; but as I write this, I remember that my friend is a photographer. Oh, dear…
There are many things I’d like to write about this photograph and the journeys it’s sent me on since I bought it — but writing short is often more difficult than writing long, and right now there are too many things I want to say. I need some time to impose some discipline; shape the material; and impose some order and structure.
My conversations with myself are becoming convoluted and tedious, so I think a distraction, a change of pace is necessary. I’ve been dithering about whether or not to take a short road trip. The answer arrived in the form of an email with “roamin” in the subject line. Rhymes with “omen” and is a shortened form of roaming. Good enough for me. Time to push away from the computer, escape the trill of the telephone, and explore the real world.
Further discussion of the four men wearing hats is postponed for now.
