soft as regret
somehow, i find myself in belgium, photographing chestnut trees.
not on purpose- not with a plan- but as if drawn, by some quiet gravity, to these narrow streets and onto this vacant square -shaded like a held breath.
i get lost, not dangerously so, just enough to forget what I was looking for -and there they are chestnut trees impossibly still blossoming, with all the time in the world.
i raise my camera, not to remember- but because something in me needs to hold what has already been expressed.
in may, they bloom. -and i bloom.
the shutter clicks soft as regret.
















