I spent most of this afternoon going over my photographs. Thousands of them, scattered over fragile disks. I often think of this fragility. What will happen to me if they one day just break? Will my heart shard like those pieces of silicon? Then I think of the photographs themselves. Which of them look fragile? Seem fragile? There’s one in which an old lover is up on a tree, balancing on a branch. Her face is radiant, as was my heart. (10 seconds later, she was on the ground with a twisted ankle)
Then I come across this photo. The opposite of fragile. The sun gleams from top, certain of its strength. The mountain, so resolute and aware of its weight, so confident of its place on Earth.