8:18

Red

February 15, 2018
Why is red the color of love?
When I want a feel for a town, I don’t head for Main Street. That’s for the tourists and TripAdvisor junkies. For me, nothing gives an unvarnished feel for a place like an alley.

Too close

February 10, 2018
Wedged between a large man and the plane window, I wonder where else in our society a person has to have constant contact with a stranger for four straight hours.
Sunlight is often playful. Today it sneaks through a window in the room where I am prepping for a meeting and selects one word out of all that I’ve written. Challenges. Is that some kind of sunny joke?
Her face is striking, even seen through the window of a moving car: pale, beautiful, slightly anxious. I only catch a glimpse as we pass. Later, I have to walk back to get a better look.
Traffic is moderate on the dreaded I-95 when my phone reminds me to pay attention. The industrial landscape around Baltimore did not look very promising for a post. But then, ahead, I saw it.
If you were to have one image to communicate who you were to the world, would you smile? What might you hold in your hands? What background would you choose?

Pot luck

February 1, 2018
Having had enough of the cold, I am in my house, trying to see something in a new way. My tiny rose bush catches my attention. It is surprisingly healthy.
Out in the woods, there is a layer of sound in silence. One has to get seriously quiet to hear all the noise.
For today’s exercise in random association, I will attempt to connect logo design, classic black gospel music and a box full of jewels. Ready?

More

January 28, 2018
Using the overhang at the entrance of the hotel to shield us from the rain, my grandson and I are watching the skies intently. We strain to see movement or hear distant honking.
As I stand in the middle of a wide field, the morning sun glints off the frosted blades of grass as if the turf is strewn with diamonds. Is this what I am to notice today?
When I take this shot, I don’t notice the diner light perfectly placed over the head of my friend Tim, hovering like a UFO. Or a glowing megaphone from heaven. Only later will I see it in the photo.
I like fog, when I’m not driving in it. For someone who seeks new angles on the familiar world, fog is like a Magical Mystery Tour. Looking outside, I see the ghosted landscape, grab my camera and jump in the car.
In front of me, the president of the large university my daughter will attend in the fall is speaking. But in my 8:18 moment of observation, I notice something else. An exit sign.

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