I have come to the conclusion that I am blue; the innermost, fleshy middle of it where things are lost. I am bluey, and I appear bluish, and I have been blued.
This is a photograph I took whilst in the Uptown, Chicago area last month. I stayed with a dear friend, Abby Rose, and visited another, Crystal Des-Ogugua. I take many photos, and I own many cameras, but I do not consider myself a photographer. These categorizations indicate mastery or skill-- I possess neither. The scene is lacking. In the case of my own photos, I am moved by portraiture, exclusively. My time in Chicago was chaotic, and stressful, and I felt nauseous for the majority of the time. The absence of life in this image parallels the way in which I had been blindly existing for the majority of the summer. I lost my grounding: the ability to connect with others in such a way that strives to transcend the crippling dichotomy of maximizing pleasure and minimizing pain. The image is hollow. I had been hollowed out.
Blue is pooling at my feet, now. I am, again, overflowing.