How to photograph the whining, howling wind, the wisps of dirt chased along the road and the empty bottles rolling to their destination of shattered desert glass slowly turning purple.
Then came the sand filling canyons and the valley as it approached. It was in your eyes and hair and ears. A few minutes and it was done and gone but the wind stayed on. The banana moon illuminates the sparse clouds heavy with water. Lead is the color then, but not for here, not for this forlorn, forgotten, forsaken desert town where the kindness of a friend reminds you of your history and tomorrow’s dreams. The wind is warm. The summer is dry and hot. The monsoon is late, while the sandstorm displays unexpected drama.
How to photograph the force of the wind, moving your body while you write on the flapping paper under the swaying light and the creaking, screeching tin?
Clowns from Amsterdam
7 years ago