By baruk on May 14, 2011
doors open. and shut. and slam. and are locked. and are broken down. and open. walls just stand there, fixed and stern, like charity. and windows sometimes offer more hope than fulfilment. but doors, they open.
By baruk on March 29, 2011
i’m endlessly delighted by the potential for magic in the perfectly mundane, the inherently boring, the everyday predictable. all it seems to take is the desire to look again, and again, and again. ‘normal’-ness is such a thin veneer to the surprising inner character of things. so listen hard to the syncopated tattoo the train […]
By baruk on October 8, 2010
when i was much younger, mamma would dress me up in brown. brown criss-cross sandals, dark brown pants and lighter brown shirts. and why not? for brown is the smell of the garden, sodden after last week’s rain. it is the feel of your hand, twined in mine. the taste of bread, fresh and warm. […]
By baruk on August 5, 2010
it is so easy to presume that others see the same world we do. in response to bah con’s photo essay on the feet of people working on a construction(?) site, joe commented that arab men recognise their veiled wives by their feet. in a world that is so face-fixated, that somehow seems exotic. how […]