Stories come in chapters. They are told in an accumulation of characters you meet in slow unfolding mysteries revealed through clues that keep you seduced into reading.
Sometimes they lead you to one thing only to redirect you in a completely opposite way. They spur on an emotion that coasts on dips and rises that makes you turn page after page. They carry you away through imagery and mystery in worlds of shadows and magic through words.
Photos can speak of stories too. Every color, contrast, blacks and whites hold levels of emotion just waiting to be seen and be felt. Bright emerald eyes peeking through a veil, long stranded straining leg muscles stilled by blurry movement, or even a cold breath on a misty day if captured in evocative eternal stillness can, like music, play a tune that can both be happy and sad at the same time or confusing and arrogant to a fault. A photo as they say, is worth a thousand words. If my photos do indeed say as much, I think I have written stories worth more than a few hundred chapters.
Some of my stories are brave and find their way out while others remain tucked away like scrolls that get buried, sometimes even forgotten. It's not sad to have some stories forgotten. They age and get better with time, much like wine kept in oak barrels deep within cold dark cellars. They reveal themselves in due time intense of flavour, robust, and shiny in a hue of brilliant deep red. They would touch your lips and leave an impression like a first-time kiss. Something that will remain indelible through time.
When the seasons change, when the hot becomes cold, when leaves turn color from deep green to dark red, and when sunsets light from bright burning orange to cool hazy purple, perspectives change. Just like all these, photos change meaning depending on when you look at them or where you're at when you decide to stare at them.
A photo of an empty bench and picnic table can suddenly look ghostly with faded figures of people laughing and children playing around.
A photo of a hike shot from behind can depict the start of a modern day adventure starting from a dust covered trail or a scene which can easily be transmuted in minds eye to show a medieval quest filled with wizardry, romance, and fellowship, such as an epic journey from the Shire to Rivendell.
A reflection on a focused pair of Oakleys perhaps just is a map or a guidebook that shows the next crag. It can also be a picture of a plan gone wrong being corrected or a strategical play being formulated that can alter the course of a timeline that changes the course of history.
A narrowing trail into the woods.
Shadows of gigantic trees flanking both sides of a narrow path.
Treacherous terrain coverable only through horizontal climbing.
Burnt Spam and a wide open campsite.
The crucial clip.
Leading. Taking rope and unafraid to fall.
On second, fully protected cautious and always willing to learn.
The send, the goal set solid in an unwavering mind.
The drive home for temporary rest and recovery.
First time at the Blue Mountains.
The test on crimps and hard biting sandstone.
Vibrant orange, blues and greens.
A few days before sending "These People are Sandwiches"
The river of lost souls.
Boronia Point warm-up.
Maxie, Matt and Jess
The Heart of Stone
Whatever the photo and whatever the color, the meaning they hold will be different with every changing pair of eyes that sees them. In a different time and place even my own story of them might change. But as of this writing, I like what I see. What I see tells me a story that curves my lips up. Right now the story leaves my eyes smiling. Right now a glance at any one photo wraps my soul like a blanket keeping me warm on a cold day. It's a good story, one with more chapters to be written and one with more pictures to tell them.