Foggy sunday afternoon
Dupa cum povesteam, in ziua a 3-a un nor de joasa altitudine a cuprins intrega zona din sud intr-un val de ceata. La intoarcere am oprit din nou pe malul lagunei Jokulsarlon si dupa cum credeam, fata de noaptea precedenta ,acum se umpluse totul de turisti. Iar combinatia de lumina, gheata, ceata si oameni au creata un spectacol vizual rar, suprarealist si mai ales absolut fotografic.
Ce nu am inteles niciodata bine e cum ajungea gheata pe mal. Fotografiile sunt facute pe firul de apa ce se varsa in ocean deci presupun ca in timpul noptii mareea a crescut nivelul apei suficient de mult cat in zona respectiva sa circule bucatile de ghetas si apoi odata cu retragerea apei au ramas acolo.
The lost world
“Hey, long time no see. I hear you’re into photos now, I meet up with your brother a couple of days ago, told me all about it”
Sometimes I meet people on the street. Strangers. They come to me with a friendly look and ask me how I’ve been, what’s up.
Ipretend to know them. I know I should and there is a bit of familiarity to them, but I cannot place it in time and space. I go along for a while. I ask them how they are, what life brought to them and hoping this way they might say something to make me remember.
They are neighbors from where I grew up, school or high school colleagues , long time friends, kids with whom I spent a whole childhood. All of them obliterated out of memory and out of existence.
My look betrays me anyway, I give up and ask them details. Sometimes lost pieces of memory come together to form an image that maybe is real but cold and unfamiliar, like a movie I saw a long time ago that got stuck yet a movie that never meant anything to me . But most of the times everything gets mixed up and the faces end up on other persons in muffled images that have no coherence and cannot be related to anything at all. And why should they, there’s no longer a timeline, there is no main story to relate them to, it was the first to go when the road collapsed behind and around. Life is but a short moment cough between two unknowns and the unwritten future in all it’s possible combinations more clear and vivid than the lost past.
Nostalgia is dead, the mind struggles in vain .
I offend by not remembering .I should feel sorry for that. But I don’t, I do not know who they are . I excuse myself, I gieve a short explanation of how and why and walk away with the promise of maybe a beer sometimes soon.
But I forget about that anyway.
