“I don’t know why I’m so fascinated with abandoned places.”
Jill, an amateur photographer, was dragging Arturo to yet another photo shoot. This time an abandoned flour mill at the edge of town, off the old highway. Jill and Arturo had survived their history together and alone. They kept each other’s secrets. They knew each other’s inner workings.
“Maybe because you were abandoned.” Arturo commented.
Jill’s family had cut ties with her because she chose to love the “wrong kind of person.” It was more than ten years after the relationship was over that things started to mend. During those years, Jill had survived homelessness, hunger, and down to the bone fear. Her family had not lifted a finger to help her.
They reached their destination. Jill parked in the former employee parking lot, asphalt buckling, and weeds growing through the cracks. She got Arturo’s chair out of the back. He didn’t always need a chair, but his leg was “in the shop” as he put it. There were some adjustments needed so it was more comfortable. Almost all of Arturo had come back from Afghanistan. His leg, his mental health, his ability to sleep through the night lay by the side of the road outside of Kabul. There are things he’s seen and done that are beyond Jill’s comprehension.
Amateur, from Latin: for the love of. Jill has a used Nikon digital but cannot see the viewer with her glasses on and cannot see the subject with her glasses off. She points and shoots. Sometimes she even manages to capture the soul of the abandoned locale.
Arturo follows her down the path toward a door that stands ajar. Jill knows better than to offer to push him or help him navigate. If Arturo needs help, she hopes he’ll ask. He cannot follow her inside. Jill peers into the mill, the machinery is still intact, the stone, a shaft and gears. She steps inside. There, in the weak light from the yellowed windows, a sunflower from the wooden floor. The flower in the flour mill. It reminds her of Arturo. Tenacious in a difficult environment. She changes the camera orientation, more clicks. Is the reason she likes Arturo, because she, herself is broken?
— Lkai
Jill, an amateur photographer, was dragging Arturo to yet another photo shoot. This time an abandoned flour mill at the edge of town, off the old highway. Jill and Arturo had survived their history together and alone. They kept each other’s secrets. They knew each other’s inner workings.
“Maybe because you were abandoned.” Arturo commented.
Jill’s family had cut ties with her because she chose to love the “wrong kind of person.” It was more than ten years after the relationship was over that things started to mend. During those years, Jill had survived homelessness, hunger, and down to the bone fear. Her family had not lifted a finger to help her.
They reached their destination. Jill parked in the former employee parking lot, asphalt buckling, and weeds growing through the cracks. She got Arturo’s chair out of the back. He didn’t always need a chair, but his leg was “in the shop” as he put it. There were some adjustments needed so it was more comfortable. Almost all of Arturo had come back from Afghanistan. His leg, his mental health, his ability to sleep through the night lay by the side of the road outside of Kabul. There are things he’s seen and done that are beyond Jill’s comprehension.
Amateur, from Latin: for the love of. Jill has a used Nikon digital but cannot see the viewer with her glasses on and cannot see the subject with her glasses off. She points and shoots. Sometimes she even manages to capture the soul of the abandoned locale.
Arturo follows her down the path toward a door that stands ajar. Jill knows better than to offer to push him or help him navigate. If Arturo needs help, she hopes he’ll ask. He cannot follow her inside. Jill peers into the mill, the machinery is still intact, the stone, a shaft and gears. She steps inside. There, in the weak light from the yellowed windows, a sunflower from the wooden floor. The flower in the flour mill. It reminds her of Arturo. Tenacious in a difficult environment. She changes the camera orientation, more clicks. Is the reason she likes Arturo, because she, herself is broken?
— Lkai
"Almost all of Arturo had come back from Afghanistan." Love it! And as an amateur photographer, I love the rest of it too. opelikakat
ReplyDeleteBeautiful moments during a beautiful activity. This is a manifestation of love, for sure, springing from the meagerest beginnings. --- Macoff
ReplyDelete