Brief Essays With Pictures

(Warning: Wordy pretension upcoming.)

I used to write stories. I believed very intensely in a fixed third person narrator. I thought that using such a narrator - which couldn’t tell the reader about the reasons behind a character’s actions - was more effective at establishing mystery and plot than anything else that I could do. I was probably wrong. But writing with that particular type of narrator very much limited what I could and couldn’t do.

Now, I’ve started taking photographs, and the pictures that I like the most are always, always, the simplest. In the above picture, there are only three things: the sky, the tree, and the grass. For me, that is enough.

Others, I know, produce work of incredible complexity. Good for them. But I’m not capable of such things. I believe that there is beauty in the simplicity of things, and I suppose that is what I want to try to pursue.

I came to the beach and immediately got sick. My allergies are working against me. The machinations of pollen and dust mites know no equal. Between the sore throat, the stuffed face and the red eyes, I am a sight to behold.

But has that stopped me from enjoying time at the beach? No. I have gone shelling with my daughter regularly; we’ve had a blast, and have found some excellent shells. Also, we’ve seen starfish, skinks, crabs, egrets, and other interesting wildlife. I love my hometown, but it is awfully nice to be away from that place.