18 August, 2013

Where is the spark?

Let us stand by the fire for a moment and just stare at it: let the smoke get into your eyes, your hair, your clothes and skin. We've been chasing each others for hours, laid down in between the humid grass blades and a funny thing happened: it seemed as if we looked at the skies from the above as we laid on our backs. The clouds were deep down, and we just wondered how we didn't fall off the Earth. That idea made us feel dizzy and excited. The clouds had shapes that were too obvious and we all agreed when somebody pointed out a familiar shape. We jumped out from the bushes with our knees scratched, chased the cats and dogs and stood so close to them fires in the fields, we kissed and we got kissed, friends were our second skin and we were so dirty and so present in those moments. Did we know about the distances in the world, about the vast differences between us that we were gonna grow into and help them grow? Is there a sat-nav that will navigate us to those burning fields? Can you smell the smoke or scratch your knees in any of those social networks? I'm taking the old ash covered path, looking for the spark that will burst this night into flames. There is a fire for everyone, out in the field and savannah, where the workmen burn the dead twigs and branches and they never get to notice us, you and me we stand too close to the fire and just stare at it; at the sundown when we let the sun go.

Take a picture of that memory and make it personal. Can you take a picture of something we all remember? I'm sure it would be a great photograph. You know there are many things that can start the fire, the sparks are around us. Where is your spark?

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