It was just a chair. So why did I stop?
An old recliner on the porch, beneath the overhang. Worn and brown with a 70’s vibe, and foam coming through on the arms.
It wasn’t much to look at. So why did I grab my camera?
The curtains in the window are closed against the heat of the day. The t-shirt on the line is motionless, stiff and dry in the Arizona heat.
A story unfolds through the lens of my camera. Maybe it had always been that way, framing an image like a scene––I don’t know, but this was the first time I’d paid attention.
Now, everything I write starts with the click of the shutter. There is no separation, just another medium. Stories happen all around us, if we slow down, notice the strange and obscure in our worlds, maybe we will hear their words.