To Lose and Gain
Trip Start
Feb 28, 2006
1
16
27
Trip End
Dec 06, 2006
Sihanoukville, Cambodia
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
fisherman and his boat at dusk
. That's me alright, a brainless troglodite incapable of more than physical demonstrations of strength and skill to demonstrate mate-worthiness, on my better days anyway. Perhaps it's just the storm. Weather effects people in different ways. Inspired in me is the sense of child like awe that innocents have for most of the world before it is lost to the aging mind. Amidst the regression, I am searching for a place that allows me to exist without constraint or interference. What is the most sincere form of identity? In this quest, the mind can lead one to strange conclusions, but perhaps the most troubling manifistetion of this journey is the isolation that surrounds it. The free spirit is not conventionaly popular. It's always a trip to step outside of oneself and realize that despite being the person you're observing, you have absolutely no desire to be seen in public together. Does a sane person stare for hours at the fascinating oscillations of a sheet in the wind? Does a sane person rap poetry while punching ocean waves? Can a sane person admire insanity? Outside of those moments which realized transparency between action and desire, my existance in shianoukville was predominately occupied with extensive inner reflection, consumption of literature, and occasional artistic expression. What is the end product of this exploration? Not a lot of new friends, let me tell you
Imagined
. I suppose the last sorrowful piece of news to report is that on the 23 of may, in the solitude of peaceful night, my camera, a loved and cherished Nikkon D70 with a tamron 28-200 superzoom AF lens and accompanying 1 Gig compat flash storage card, passed on. Her time had come and I don't think she could bear the thought of contaminating my journey with her suffering. While I slept, she quitely went through my bags and borrowed a few items to remember me by before dissapearing to her fate. I wish she had taken more than my watch and the 80 bucks she found in my backack. Shortly after she left, I believe my failure of a cell phone decided to take its own life and followed suit. Waking to the tossed remains of my lighted possesions, I was at first confused, angry, and griefstricken. Had I failed to protect my love from the thieves of the night? Was my dear camera in the hands of evil men, only to be sold as a slave for dirt, never again to possess the eye and touch of a caring artist? I punched a concrete wall and poured unintelligable slurs at the night guard who stared on without compassion. In my efforts to regain composure I decided to inventory what was lost, and that's when I found the note. Lightly tucked between the pages of my journal, a folded piece of cream colored paper bore my name. Sitting slowly on the end of the bed, scattered items at my feet, I held the parchment in both hands as one tends to hold delicate things, and pondered its existance
Mike
. Certainly it was from her. The Basic block type I have know so well over the years was unmistakable. I brought the paper to my nose and inhaled deeply, drawing whatever lingering presence of her scent was left into my thoughts. The forest mountain of Maupititi came rushing back. Sweat drenched hikes to fijian waterfalls, steaming thanksgiving feasts in the company of love, and the gritty salt stained air of the western shores of tongatapu had all left their mark. There are too many memories to count, but the beauty of her existance is that for almost every moment, there's a picture. It's hard to hold back the tears. My fingers take on the responsibility of unfolding the note and my eyes bear the words left within. I know that I will never love another quite the same. Hazel Eyes,
As you read this I can promise you, I feel no pain, and suffer only the knowledge that you will have hurt your hand by punching a concrete wall before finding this note. It would be a shame for you to break so strong a hand capable of such delicate touch. I always felt safe in your grasp and despite the precarious positions in which I was placed at times, I never once felt unsafe or unsure of your confidence to pull me to safety. You have always respected me as a precision instrument, and in return I have done my best to create for you quality images that match the ideal of your vision as both a casual photographer and an artist. Unfortunately, over the last 6 months or so, I have not been able to perform to the standards that you need and deserve. I can not know with certainty what is wrong, considering I am merely a camera, but what I do know is that whatever it is, it persists, and despite the failed efforts to fix the problem, It's getting worse. You have a great talent, and you deserve better. I can no longer bear the hearbreak of seeing you suffer over lost files and contaminated image fragments. You are far to sentimental to admit the truth, and I know you well enough to know that had I told you of my plan, you would only have made what I have to do more difficult. Please understand, that my leaving you is for the best. I am forever greatful for having had such an eventful life, and despite our recent hardships, the partnership we've shared will always be known as beautiful in my memory. Please forgive me for the recently taken pictures that accompany my exit without backup. They are some of our best work together, and I regret the loss you may feel in knowing that you will never see them again. Take comfort in knowing that for the rest of our natural life, there is something that only you and I will share. I have never been jealous of the freedom with which you display our creations, but just this once, in my last and most selfish act, I am taking them as my own. Move on quickly, and find another. The whole world is at a loss when you are without a camera.
Farewell with love,
Your lens
My Reply in the darkness of loss,
Go in peace to your elected place in a never so certain future. Farwell my camera, my lens, my muse. You will be missed.
Hazel eyes
