At least, what’s left of that famous river…
Two things built up my confidence for this week’s trip to Lafayette. First, was that I survived last week’s shoot without catching anything. Protections work. Second, my visit with doctor number 87 did not predict imminent death. Wasn’t too worried about that one, to begin with, but a win is still a win. So, feeling a little confident, I tossed a message at Cassandra to see if she’d be available to shoot and when she agreed I started making plans.
Lafayette is one of those towns I’ve been through dozens of times but only stop at convenience stores along the interstate. Some ten or so years ago, I had a photo hanging at a gallery there for some contest of some kind, but I went directly there and back home. I’d never driven around, getting to know the city nor the university it hosts. Having cleared the day, I took some time and drove around, happy to find that Purdue students were staying inside and that finding a parking place didn’t mean driving in circles for 30 minutes.
Cassandra joined me in the early part of the evening as the sun was perfectly placed in the sky. Quickly enough, street lights began to pop on and the shadows grew long enough we couldn’t get decent natural light without invoking tremendous amounts of noise. Black and white with a touch of grain is fine, but there’s a limit. As for the Wabash, well, it’s at an all-time low, shallow enough one might walk across it in places. Sigh. So much for that “majestic river” vibe.
This is the first of what will likely be three posts with Cassandra. I enjoy the fact that she always comes prepared for multiple looks. As always, click on the thumbnail to view the image full screen. Enjoy!
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17284″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
In A Room Where No One Sees
Dreams give us the ability to experience what we know may never come true.
Late at night, after the kids are tucked in bed and fast asleep, after the laundry is done, after the dishes are washed, and the bills are paid, she wanders into her bedroom and sets her phone on the dresser. She removes from the back of a drawer something she’d bought once, years ago when her dreams might have had a chance, when there were opportunities on the horizon, before reality dragged her to a place she never imagined.
She puts on the costume of something she never was then reaches over, plays her favorite song, starts the video recorder, and begins to dance for someone she’s never known. Giving a brief yield to her latent desire, she dances for someone who cares, someone she can trust, someone who values who she is, a person who won’t beat her into submission, a friend who won’t betray her, the one who says, “I love you,” without reservation.
She imagines the lights. She feels the smoke. For a moment, she is not in the dingy, cramped 8×8 bedroom. She pours what little energy she has left into the voluptuous ballet she imagines, the private choreography intended only for the eyes of that one soul, the one person who has never let her down. She feels free. For three minutes and 47 seconds, she slowly turns and dances, and dreams of seducing someone who she has never known.
Then, as the final strains of Eden’s “Dirty Blonde” fade into the quiet night, she turns off the video and deletes it from her phone. She puts on a faded t-shirt and the closest pair of sweatpants she can find. Turning off the light, she goes to bed dreaming of a different life; one where she is loved.
[tg_masonry_gallery gallery_id=”17204″ layout=”contain” columns=”3″]
Share this:
Like this: