Did gypsy-inspired shots while cruising a random pasture with my photographer best friend. a cigarette in hand, the air around me was bathed in the shade of faint white by every exhalation done. The faintness of the shade made me thought of spirits flying buoyantly in the sky.
Under the pale radiance of the sun that day, the only images I was able to conjure up were collective entities which cause the air around them moving as they slice through the translucence ― the way you see the air around a heated top of a car slightly forming waves of distortion under the sun's merciless exposure.
Just like us, they are probably still sailing from "sea" to "sea", from another vacant area to a void in-between to another vacant area, until the pillars of time collapse like a bombarded Acropolis. feeling strangely related to mental images felt like building a bridge between reality and fiction ― and that bridge was some kind of an understanding that even though we are all innately unfettered, with no chain or cuff attached to our feet and hand, sometimes we just don't want to be entirely free.
Flying through life like that, we will one day reach a beautiful golden-clad "port" only to set off for a more grandiose one, and from that preceding port to a far more grandiose one ― the cycle will never end. Just like the wandering spirits, we'll probably sail until the pillars of time collapse, leaving only glowing dust floating confusedly in the barren hands of Milky Way.
Today, though, you're free to kiss the sky.
inspired by a passage in Murakami's Norwegian Wood.
photography by devina
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