purisubzi

Category: Photos

  • Meditation For the Silence of Morning

    I wake myself imagining the shape
    of the day and where I will find

    myself within it. Language is not often
    in that shape,

    but sentences survive somehow
    through the islands of dark matter,

    the negative space often more important
    than the positive.

    Imagine finding you look at the world
    completely different upon waking one day.

    You do not know if this is permanent.
    Anything can change, after all,

    for how else would you find yourself
    in this predicament or this opportunity,

    depending on the frame? A single thought
    can make loneliness seem frighteningly new.

    We destroy the paths of rivers to make room for the sea.

    Meditation For the Silence of Morning, Adam Clay

  • The Papers

    For over a month now, she hasn’t been able to read her newspapers – inky, smudgy. Today was different. And today she seems lighter.

    iPads are great, but in these uncertain times, something old school is comfort.

  • Evidence of Rain

    Evidence the rain leaves behind.

  • Ripple in the Sky

    Where does the ripple in the sky begin?
    Behind the mountains holding the waters in.

    Charles Tomlinson

  • Pickings

    Pickings on the morning run. 📷

    There’s a small flower patch that I circle a few times, so at the end of the run, I pick a few, come back home and set them in water. A little, almost daily routine that is all joy.

  • Last of the Semaphores at Jaisalmer

    These semaphore signals outside Jaisalmer are among the last of the kind on the Indian Railways. By next year, they will be gone, along with all traces of the old school fully mechanical, wire based signalling.

    The impressive fort can be seen in the background.

  • Yellow Veins

    This morning, photographing yellow veins. 📷

  • From the Air

    Two months ago, when sitting next to wings and seeing the world below was a thing. 📷

  • The Far, The Past, The Invisible

    Perhaps at the beginning,
    time and the visible,
    twin markers of distance,
    arrived together,
    drunk,
    battering on the door,
    just before dawn.

    The first light sobered them,
    and examining the day,
    they spoke
    of the far, the past, the invisible.
    They spoke of the horizons
    surrounding everything
    which has not yet disappeared

    The Far, The Past, The Invisible, John Berger

  • Feet Up

    The best way to travel in India. There’s something about the simplicity of this that is unbeatable.