"Perhaps it is because they are so cranky that once you get used to the Leica they do cast a powerful spell. Whenever I pick one up I find the sound and feel a welcome change from the zip-zip of the modern motor drive. The M6 always seduces me with the shy click of its shutter and a film advance that has the timbre of tearing silk.
I suppose that if all my equipment was lost, stolen or had fallen apart then the last piece of gear that I would want to hang on to would be my battered M6, 35mm f1.4 and a pocket full of film. Call it my desert island luxury.”
“With experience, I’m getting better at identifying this distinction, wilfully separating the experience from the potential end result as I make the photograph. I’ll tell myself things like “there’s no photo here, but it’s a great memory” or “nice view, no picture” and keep on walking. It’s often still the images that I’ve made almost casually in passing and then completely forgotten about that ultimately linger the longest. Maybe it’s true then, that time heals all wounds. It fogs the memory, dampens my passions and provides a necessary dose of rationality and rigor during the editing process.”
It just occured to me that I have in my possession all 3 of my dream cameras. It is like one of those moments that border on almost disbelief at how far I have come (i.e. like the time when I looked into the mirror and realised that I have finally gotten my arm tattooed just like I have always wanted).
So late last week, I was assigned a new patient who was admitted for mild right-sided weakness and cerebellar signs. I did a quick assessment, then gave her a series of exercises to do. The next day, she showed much improvement and told me she had been doing the exercises all day. I let her know how pleased I was and she simply replied, “If it is to be, it is up to me.”
Is it hiding in the folds of reality spun so tightly around us, around and around and around in that whirlwind of colour and noise and madness that forces us to crane our necks and poke our chins out like silly little dolphins holding out for that mysterious dark figure of a man to nod and toss us that fish glistening and cold like a limp dick still wet from the tongue that had licked it into orgasm
for a breath of fresh air sucked into lungs chilled by the gravity of the situation yet not grave enough for us to ignore the irony of the sea staring back with arms wide open and face spread thin, showing us how silly we look with our craned necks and poked-out chins, but of course, we already knew. Who would not know? The question is: what can we do but draw our heads back in and throw our punches as if we mean it.
"Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me remove the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the plank that is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck that is in your brother’s eye."
And the fading sun shone straight into his brown eyes, if only for a moment, as the car came around the bend. He squinted to see past the haziness only a 40-degree summer sunset can bring, and there he saw, a moment of clarity, a moment of truth, a moment of life.