I could jokingly say that I shoot a lot of dead things because I’m slow to get around to stuff, but that’s not totally true. I shoot all the time. So it may just take a while for whatever to appeal to me. And there is pressure in shooting something in it’s full glory prime. You know that time is short lived, so you better get on it, figure it out. You beg your minds eye to focus. Come on, you plead. So I’m often still thinking. Mulling and mulling as whatever flower or creature withers onward, unaware of being watched.
Then, more often than not, the right day comes around
and the light is good and that something has aged and dried
into shapes and surfaces, textures and shadows.
And there it is.
More interesting in death, than lovely in life.
A beautiful chaos of new clothes, none the Emperor’s.