Sun, Nov 24, 7:34 PM CST

For My Friend(s)...

Photography Abstract posted on Jan 07, 2010
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Description


On frozen nights the heart finds its own warmth; it is a hard thing at times, unyielding and immutable. Often it is a thing lacking in the romance of soft feelings, cuddles, and cooing whispers of pillow-talk and senseless baby-prattle. The heart’s warmth is pragmatic and predatory. The heart—as we know it—is a hungry animal, driven by instinct and need. In this way, the heart is pure and without pretense. This is a thing that I learned from you. Do you remember teaching me? We sat alone, talking of things important only to ourselves. In this way, our talk bore the relevance of hyena-noise, and the poetry of incoherence. We solved no grand mysteries; we confronted nothing more substantial than our own improvised assertions and agreements. Our profundity was nonsense. It was cold. You were honest. I was honest. You were afraid. I was indifferent. Not to you, my dear, never to you but to the senseless demands burdened on you. You owe nothing, and so your burdens are stupid. They are beneath you: a cockroach that you kill is more precious than the load others place on your shoulders. And yet there was no disparity between what we said and what we felt. My indifference was not yours to bear and so I did not give it to you. You spoke of your fears and I gave you silence in which to shape your words. When you were done, I took your hand—knowing that I could only understand what my ears could hear. I felt your unrest, your fear; I knew that there was a howling, hungry shadow within you, and my confrontation of it was a sideways thing, a passive thing…ultimately indifferent. Do not mistake this as indifference to you. It is no such thing. Instead, it was (and is) the marrow-deep knowledge that your concerns and my concerns were all that mattered. The world did not exist, and the world’s anxiety was not our own. There was ice on the window. There was warmth in the room, and there were cockroaches. I heard your voice, and so the ice and the windows were meaningless. The roaches were…well…they were hungry. You spoke in your language when mine failed you, and my knowledge of your intimate tongue lives within distinct limits; there are things about you I will never understand. Your brain is an alien space to me. You—for all of your familiarity—are the greatest of mysteries. And perhaps it is in this that Love truly dwells. I can say to you that I love you—I did, after all, suck your thumb. And in uttering those words, remembering the taste of your thumb-skin, I come face-to-face with the knowledge that you are an alien. I will never know all of you. I’m comfortable with that. Knowledge is the willingness to learn and not the comfort of knowing. Now there is ice. Somewhere, there are cockroaches. You and I are not together in this moment, but in this moment, we are not apart. *** Strange things happen when I look at almost-abstract pictures of ice. Winter is a strange season. I understand water, but I don’t truly understand ice. It’s like contemplating the cockles of one’s own heart, and in contemplating cockles, I’ve come to the knowledge that I love my friends. I can name them, which means for some, I can name you.. And though a fictional and nameless narrator has spoken the words above, this image and these words are dedicated to those I love: my friends both near and far, and especially to those going through darkness.

Comments (20)


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RickGot

1:03AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

In the cold bitterness of ice's iron grip on the world, you've captured a darker corner of the frozen tableau and illuminated it with both light and words, allowing the rest of us to experience your vision, through your eyes, and given us a glimpse of your heart. Well captured, and well said.

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beachzz

1:47AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

I don't know much about ice, for it doesn't freeze here the way it does there. Rain, now I know about rain and water, and walk in it, work in it, go about my day with it pouring. Ice, not so much. You write so brilliantly about it, I can almost feel the chill. Your foto, well, it has an abstract, almost sinister look to it, which I guess make sense in some strange, alien way.

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prutzworks

2:35AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

xlt shot and lighting

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PSDuck

3:40AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Water, ice...I love it. I respect, but do not love black ice on the roads. Understand? Only in my all-too Human mind. But, love? Yes. Superb thoughts and image.

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helanker

6:43AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Chip! Your short story need no answer, but I read it and I like it alot and find it very beautiful. So is the Image, that fits so well to the words. Well done.

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durleybeachbum

6:48AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

That is almost abstract writing. Deeply moving at some level, and melancholic in the description of apartness even in togetherness. And the icy thumb image..marvellous.

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kgb224

8:05AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Outstanding capture and short story my friend.

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Meisiekind

8:17AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

This is touching my core - my soul... You could just as well be talking about me! I love it Chip and you are a good friend! Thank you! :))

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ladyraven23452

8:44AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

great.

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MrsRatbag

8:46AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Moving, thought-provoking narrative; and I love the dark icy image with its own ray of light!

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blinkings

8:56AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

A pretty and delicate photo my friend. Well done.

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Sea_Dog

9:34AM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Superb work, as usual, with camera and pen. This piece is a masterwork, Chip. the image so perfectly reflects on the words.

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bmac62

12:11PM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Ding...favorite! So intricate..yet so easy to read and understand. And then to dedicate it to your friends. You've got way more friends than you may even know. They all thank you:)

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myrrhluz

7:40PM | Thu, 07 January 2010

A very complex and interwoven narrative. As I read it, I was sometimes relating to it, other times intigued by it, and always captured by its beauty. Wonderful words and image.

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auntietk

11:17PM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Water is a movie, ice is a still photograph. Perhaps a frozen waterfall is nature's way of pressing the shutter on the camera. Ice is an accretion ... a process, not an event. So maybe love IS ice, after all. Unless one has the skill of a vodyanoi, ice is the way to go if you need to manifest something solid. When I name those I love, you are absolutely on the list.

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mbz2662

11:19PM | Thu, 07 January 2010

Wonderful :)

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jac204

7:54AM | Fri, 08 January 2010

Great narrative and image :)

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MagikUnicorn

11:50AM | Fri, 08 January 2010

COLD COLD HERE TO MY FRIEND BRRRRR ;-)

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romanceworks

4:53PM | Tue, 12 January 2010

Nothing more loving that giving silence for another to shape their words. Your picture is of ice, and yet your words warm the heart. CC

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LovelyPoetess

9:35PM | Wed, 13 January 2010

"Knowledge is the willingness to learn and not the comfort of knowing" This is an very profound statement. How wise of you to know it. Excellent photo and writing, I find that I see two faces in the ice, both a bit stylized, an oriental lion and dragon. Methinks they are the inspiration of this tale you spin. : )


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Photograph Details
F Numberf/2.7
MakeCanon
ModelCanon PowerShot A1000 IS
Shutter Speed1/640
ISO Speed80
Focal Length6

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