When I first envisioned the country (world?) of Agara, it was because of leaves from a Catalpa tree…in that particular instance, a Catalpa in Prague. My friend (and boss) Kača had gone out on her lunch break to gather leaves for the bearded dragons that were the reptilian mascots of the Golden Sickle (or the Olden Pickle, as the staff sometimes called it.) She returned with numerous Catalpa leaves, washed them, rummaged through the staff kitchen refrigerator for lettuce and what looked like parsley and then proceeded to cut the mixed greens into something bite sized for the rather diminutive, bright-eyed dragons busy ignoring all but the few surviving crickets in their enclosure. I hadn’t actually thought much of Agara, but the inklings of a story-arc were already firmly entrenched in my mind. I had an idea of capturing something of Central Europe and filtering it through a distinctly otherworldly lens, but I had no clue that Agara would be the country through which this happened…that came later, when (on one of my night shifts at the Golden Sickle) I started to play around with the photograph I’d taken of two overlapping catalpa leaves sitting on the kitchen counter—not far from a vat of Marushka’s biologically-active tea. I was struck with the way the image recalled a flag, and…well…the picture in question became the first (and so far, only) flag of an unreal nation to grace my gallery. I suspect that there will be other flags of unreal nations, especially since Ükür—another familiar-yet-alien country—has sprung forth in my gallery. Like my fictional Agarans, I have a pronounced affection for catalpa trees. One grew in front of my maternal grandparents’ house, and I was always intrigued by the size of that tree in relation to the size of its leaves. It was something of a runt-tree, starved of sunlight by the larger maples on either side of it. I have to say, it was a hearty—if little—tree that survived (until the current residents of the house unceremoniously cut it down.) Now, when I see familiar, heart-shaped leaves, I cannot help but think of Agara; and it seems that since Agara occupies my creative thoughts, I tend to find the “national tree” in places I’d least expect to see it. As is my weekend habit, I spend time with Corey (CoreyBlack) wandering around and taking photographs in random places around Chicago. We’ve also taken to spending time at a coffee house not far from where Corey and his roommate live. It’s a nice and friendly place, called—of all things—the Perfect Cup. As I ducked outside for a cigarette break, I noticed that two trees down, familiar, green, heart-shaped leaves waved in the slight breeze. I felt a moment of Agaran patriotism, wiggled my camera out of my pocket and snapped a few captures. Some came out. Some didn’t. Like Agara itself, catalpa trees aren’t exactly the most predictable of artistic targets; they catch breezes when there is no wind…the leaves move, as if guided by the working of some strange, subterranean machine…and well…sometimes photos just aren’t meant to be. But on the day I took this shot, the tree (and the breezes, and possible underground machines) cooperated. It’s a simple shot, but I like the leaf details and the sun. Because of my recent literary visits to Agara, I decided to pull this out of my files and allow it—once again—to see the light of day. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great and restful day.