X-Pro1 Diaries: She Crosses the Road
The clock read 10:52pm.
The air warm and muggy, it hung like a damp blanket over everything. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead even if you were standing still, the occasional breeze offering scant relief. Late night diners hung around on the corner coffeeshops, largely keeping to themselves as they absent mindedly stared ahead, their cups of coffee producing swirls of steam into the air. Once in a while, a loud rumble of a roller shutter being pulled down announced yet another retirement for the night, as shopkeepers prepared to leave for home. A couple of stray dogs rummaged through the bins, looking for a meal as a cat across the road stared at them, seemingly unbothered.
Then came a clackety clack of heels on asphalt, the stuccato rhythm out of sync with the crickets chirping in the night. A whiff of perfume mixed curiously with the night air.
She crossed the road.
Tunnel Vision
(Leica M7, Fujichrome Provia 100F)
Her name was like an echo. Every time someone called her they could see how vastly it travelled inside her hollow self, not bouncing until it reached the bottom of darkness she had endless amounts of. She was bored. Bored of life, bored of redundancy, bored of familiar faces. But she never attempted anything different. Like it had encompassed her so gradually, like an hour glass with an endless bottom - so that even when she was engulfed in boredom, she was oblivious in it’s grainy texture. She walked along the same route to get home. The same route she embarked on for the past ten years. It was only this overly humid night, that she realized that only the sounds of her footsteps surrounded her through the tunnel. She took a deep breath and yelled out her name and watched as it warped old structure. She gasped, taken aback by her own spontaneity. She looked around at the still empty tunnel; finally hearing the sounds of the hourglass.
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
Plastic Fantastic
(photo taken with Canon 50E, Kodak Elitechrome 100 Cross Processed)
Let me take a second to cut and paste the image of her hips, Alysa’s upper body, Lisa’s lips and Cassandra’s lower back onto a canvas that is already completed. Because skin bleach is just a Ctrl Alt Delete to being born the wrong colour. We can fix it! Says the man with the overly white smile - and he can fix those too. Teeth. Cheeks. Because they are supposed to gleam unrealistically. Chins were meant to have sharp cuts. Thighs aren’t supposed to touch. The love we’re supposed to satisfy ourselves with; let me take a moment to trim that incase it adds to my jean size. I can try to find it through someone else. Later. Nature got it wrong the first time around, so we cut ourselves open.
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
Inhale. Exhale.
(photo taken with Leica M7, 50mm Summicron, Kodak 100VS)
But minds can’t be blank. Neither can hearts. Neither can school yards, or kitchens; once in a while you stumble across some who are. Blank. He used to put up empty canvases in his room. For a brief moment he could feel his mind breathe. But it was silly they told him. Things were meant to be filled. Of course they were, he thought with eyebrows raised, like passports and pages, so they may turn to books; like lady bug wings; like starry skies. But hearts and minds were not things. How peculiar, he would ponder. How dangerous it became; as time moved on he forgot. As life moved on he deteriorated. His heart, that is. His mind. Him. Among each traffic light, each lamp post, each signage. Finger Lickin’ G- 50% OFF Furniture Tod- Make a Better Deci-
Perhaps it was the black background that spotlighted the contrast. Perhaps it was the little boy in him that stayed ignited. But he had to gasp for air at the sight of the blue. He irises drank the view at the glimpse of blank. He stopped the car. He watched the plane pass by, the birds on occasion. He breathed.
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
The Next Step
(photo taken with Leica M7, 50mm Summicron, Kodak 100VS)
It was like every time she moved her body ached. The way your leg feels in the first few seconds after it falls asleep. The way wounds feels after the stiches come out and the threads run between each skin puncture before escaping. If you’ve never travelled, heartbreak is the most severe emotion the body and mind can take. If you have, then you know there is no pain greater than wanderlust. The intense craving for culture shock; the desire for conversations on a unique wavelength; the depression wanting the world embeds.
It’s a funny thing, the redundancy of life. The sun that hits off the rain showered glass holds the world together the same way sunsets paint seas on every corner of continents, but there’s a slight variation that thins the thread. Humidity fails to stand beside dry Canadian winters or summertime Christmas in Australia. Cherry blossoms don’t smell as sweet without green tea seeping off in the distance.
The nostalgia was enough to pick up her phone.
The ringing stopped.
‘Hi’ she let out nervously, booking her plane ticket without another breath.
Life is much more exciting when you’re not ready for the next step.
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
How I Learned to Give In and Love My Phone
Traffic jam muffles. Honks, in an attempt to regain control of their idle situation; laughter that followed the school bell in the distance. Sounds whizzed past his ears and became his eyes.
He looked into bright screens that dazzled his eyes.
3 new messages. 2 unread emails. Red lights blinking.
‘In regards to your previous ema-‘
‘Excuse me’ he looked up to see her peering at him askingly and was surprised by his inability to comprehend a human interaction. As if his brain only knew how to send him error signals. Invalid personnel. Does not compute.
‘Could you repeat that’ he asked, pocketing his phone.
‘I was just wondering where the nearest bus stop was’ she peered. Her eyes were intricate. It wasn’t a female infatuation or a testosterone driven agenda. He was encompassed by features that didn’t include buttons. Features he forgot he had.
When he found the words, he told her in inaudible mumbles. She laughed and thanked him. His phone interrupted the phenomenon. Commanding him back, like Hera to Zeus. But it was too late; the soft sunset, the café lights, invisible strings that made him look at every passerby- a new reality now captured him.
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
Just Him and His Reflection
It’s interesting how catching your reflection outside the safe haven of your bedroom walls can alarm you. Like catching a glimpse of someone you’d hope you wouldn’t bump into. Igniting an impulse to dive underneath the dining table or mask your face with the menu.
He was quite displeased with his reflection. His bespectacled face bored him, there was nothing exciting about the way he his routine life drilled a permanent blank across his face. Indifference is what the years had made him.
It was either the wine that was now embedding into the carpet instead of his tongue or the burnt spaghetti that filled his miniature sized kitchen that made him grab his wallet and walk five blocks to the quiet restaurant on the corner. It had been a good two years since he’d been out for dinner.
Ah, and misery loves company. He didn’t expect misery to be seated in front of him, showcasing his features. It made him uncomfortable. But he sat long enough to for the indifference to sink in. So when he looked up at his boring, bespectacled face he simply saw a person with a life simple. He didn’t have adventure or a driving addiction for the unknown but he had always been comfortable and he was always safe. He was content, he decided. And it may have been the last time he realized, but even years after his epiphany he could hardly fathom doing anything else.
Just him and his reflection.
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
X-Pro1 Diaries: Just Before Dinnertime
View the rest of my ongoing X-Pro1 experiences and photos or the rest of the photos on Handcarry Only
The hour before dinner time is a curious occasion. The working masses are spontaneously poured out onto the streets, evident in their eyes, relief that the workday is finally over. The fading light in the sky heightening the growling in their collective stomachs as they go in search of sustenance, mostly in groups, laughing and gesturing, occasionally alone, with the dim light of their mobile phones upon their faces.
The restaurants and street hawkers are in a frenzy of activity, preparing for what typically is their busiest time of day. Amidst the smoke and smells, the harsh fluorescent light and garish neon, a city is winding down.
Beers are poured, cigarettes lit, tales exchanged.
Its dinnertime.
I will be posting my ongoing photos and thoughts on the Fuji X-Pro1, please bookmark or subscribe to Handcarry Only to join me on my journey.
Click here to view my other posts on the Fuji X-Pro1 and see more photos
A Night in London
It was a warm London night. The kind of warmth invoked by a contrast of elements. The clinking of ice against glasses half filled. The heavy rainfall outside muted by the windows. He smiled. Tonight felt like nostalgia in the making. One of those prominent memories that flash between a millisecond of someone asking you what Soho is like and you answering with an entranced ‘Wonderful’.
The beauty of being a traveler is, among the abundance of people you find yourself surrounded by, you are always alone. Far too many have driven negative connotations within the word for it to be associated with beauty but Jean de la Bruyere was far too resonant in his mind. Smart comments were made. Laughter erupted. There was a subconscious appreciation toward the snow globed moment. Then he saw them. Right behind the thin glass windows. Leaning towards each other magnetically, as muted as the rain. Eyes closed, subtle smiles lingering. It was an accidental discovery and as an uproar of laughter continued, he realized he was caught between two moments – his reality and a couple’s fleeting rush.
The way they sunk into each other so effortlessly. The way they shared a breath. It was love. He could tell by the way he forgot to inhale when he saw them. He could tell by the way it stung. Maybe it’d last till tomorrow. Maybe he’d make her breakfast every morning for a week. Maybe she’d want to keep the way he held her forever. They didn’t know. Or maybe they did and it was too soon to say anything. And as an uproar of laughter continued, he realized he was caught between two perceptions – his and a couple’s fleeting rush.
HAPPY VALENTINE’S EVERYONE!
Conversations by the Window Seatis an ongoing creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman, with photos and writing themed around a common love of travel and discovery.
View other Conversations by the Window Seat or read more of Romila’s writing at her blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper
Conversations by the Window Seat
A creative collaboration between Adrian Seah and Romila Barryman
I am very very excited to announce a creative collaboration between Romila Barryman who runs the popular blog Daydreamsonlooseleafpaper and Handcarry Only. We’re calling the project “Conversations by the Window Seat”, reflecting our common love of travel, and evoking the essence of two people sharing stories on a plane.
Romila is a true wordsmith, creating worlds and nuancing emotions with her writing and I have been an admirer since I first chanced upon her blog. The point of a collaboration is for the resulting work to be greater than the sum of its parts, and to that end, and on an ongoing basis, Romila will be reacting to a photograph which I will send her, weaving her magic and writing up a story around the photograph, imagining a narrative which might or might not have existed. These will be themed around travel, and the discovery of places and faces, new and old.
We have a special Valentine’s Day post for you tomorrow as our very first post so stay tuned!
High-res
