things hidden

There are the things that are out in the open, and there are the things that are hidden. The real world has more to do with what is hidden.

— Saul Leiter

 

It’s been a bleak time. Last summer, my dad died. Set against the backdrop of the grander world stage – a stage in flames – it is a small grief, maybe. But it is my grief. I have written something about him and when I have found some courage, I will post it, but for now: small things. Beacuse the small things reveal the big things; the sum of their parts. The things that give us meaning. I picked up a camera for the first time in a long, long time last week. It was my dad’s camera. I felt it in my hands. Solid. Weighty. I thought about all the times he had picked it up. I imagined his big hands wrapped around it. His eye, seeking out moments. Sweet bursts of joy.

It was dawn. I was looking for some light.

 

 

 

© Emily Hughes, 2020

 

Tangled

Maybe it’s a reflection of my current state of mind, but give me an unkempt tangle of grasses and wild flowers over a neatly cultivated border any day.

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