I often reach too quickly for the handle to a door in my parents house that leads from the utility room into the garage and stub my knuckles on the wall. Because neither the handle, door nor indeed garage have been there since about 1986. Like a ghost that appears to walk 18 inches below the level of the new floorboards. Habit, it's a hard one to break right enough.
Never underestimate the power that other people have to turn your day around. Or your head.
I wouldn't say I've physically had the most productive day here. I'll be paying the ferryman furiously for that tomorrow. But I've leapt mountains in my head. This wee man is all laugh.
Do you take requests? I certainly do, I'll even give you turn around the dance floor if you fancy. Do you have any blue? Says the bird over at Little Shed. Debbie Harry was proclaimed to be 'like running'. As comps go thats a chest puffer make no mistake. And one's oldest friend can be ones most pragmatic commentator and rightly so. (And biggest fan I ought to clarify)
We charge around Africa and make it to the Maldives by New Year. Life had clouded my lenses and I write off an entire continent. I ignore the Kalahari Highway and sleep through most of Cape Town I could kick myself. By Singapore I have a new passport and less ballast. I'm hankering to photograph blue. Sea and sky aside you don't see much of it. It's an expensive palette. Crowned princes paid dowries in prussian pigments. Do you have any blue? I query Asia. Penang provides me with hot air balloon lanterns and in Phu My I fall upon a field of pots.
Margaret O'Hare is a fine art photographer in Northern Ireland. Commercial and formal photography for creative application.
There's a nose print on the glass. Someone I used to know has turned up and pressed his face to my gallery window.
I wasn't there, you used to know me. I shall say to him if he comes back.