Every year, on this day, August 6th, newspapers and media outlets write a piece on Hiroshima. On the first Atomic Bomb used outside of testing. On the first Atomic Bomb used on civilians. On the first Atomic Bomb that killed upwards of 100,000 people in matters of seconds and minutes. On the first Atomic Bomb that was followed by the first ever second Atomic Bomb to be used outside of testing. On the first second Atomic Bomb that killed nearly as many people. On the first Atomic Bomb to be dropped on Nagasaki, only 3 days later, on August 9th. Continue reading “A Day to Remember. Hiroshima.”
It is a new Memorial. To the best of my knowledge, it is also a first of its kind in the US. Usually, here in the States, we are accustomed to seeing heroic statues, placards, flags flying high, license plates with the word “Veteran” written on them. And in general, aside from a single footballer, everyone stands up while the National Anthem plays.
In general, I have to admit, I like this patriotism. Unfortunately, one too many times, I’ve seen it consume people rather than it be healthfully consumed. Let me put it this way, being patriotic doesn’t automatically mean that all other countries are crap.
Last time I signed off saying that I would write about Day 2 in Japan. That will have to wait because I got the urge to write about a recent trip to Blue Mountain, in Canada. And while I write some slow blues plays in the background.
Where did I leave off? Must have been when we were boarding the flight, after writing the post A Fujifilm X100F Love Story, and Japan. Aug 16th, 2018, which now seems forever ago, but that’s the beauty of photography. It brings those great memories rushing back. Continue reading “The First Day in Japan, Reliving it through Photography”
Traveling is an addiction. The routine of getting ready to go, packing up the bags with outfits, toiletries, cables and the rest is exhilarating. Deciding how to get to the airport, whether with a UBER, park there, or having someone drop you off. Continue reading “New York. July Fourth, Immigration and a Wedding”
Every great love story starts with a copious amount of flirting. The push and pull, the looking and not looking, the smiling at each other from a distance, the subtle questions with double meanings, the … you get it. Continue reading “A Fujifilm X100F Love Story, and Japan”
There’s something about sunrise which is always opportunity-filled. When sunset hits, you think of what you left behind, another day is gone. Sunrises are filled with surprise. The day is ahead. There is opportunity. Something is coming.
It’s 5:40 am, everyone else is still asleep in the cabin which some friend, my wife and I rented for Memorial Day weekend. We came to Frankfort, Michigan on Crystal Lake. And this is what my iPhone says it looks like right now. Continue reading “Memorial Trip and Washington DC”
It probably started in December of 2016. No wait. Most probably many years before that. When I wanted to become an architect. When I bought a few architecture books at the bookstore. When the ‘bookstore’ was still a thing.
You sit down on those teal velvet armchairs or brown leather couches and start flipping the pages. The architecture is in front of you. You can touch the pages, usually thick, heavy, with perfectly exposed photos. You focus on some of the details, the commas of architecture, be it the windows, the window sills, or just the orange flower arrangement in front of a blue wall. Continue reading “Frank Lloyd Wright in the Midwest – Part 1”
“What music would you like to listen to? Here’s the phone, you choose.” Car is clean, there’s no waiting outside in the snow, or rain, or blistering cold. We jump in for the 20 minute ride from Lake Whitmore to Ann Arbor, just a little outside of Detroit. I chose The Animals, for this post, not when I was in the car. My hockey teammates chose the music that time. Continue reading “Is it Super?”
A clarinet to suavely introduce the delicate French voice. The singer hums and sings while I hold a cocktail, a cigarette, clearly with a cigarette holder, tapping to the beat, listening to the vibrato in her voice. I’m getting confused. But through her voice I am taken there, to those time.
I had to listen to Edith Piaf for this post. If I had Six Hours in Paris, I would spend them in a cafe’, mesmerized by her voice, sobbing one moment, feeling exhilarated the next. Continue reading “Six Hours in Paris”
How do you feel about queues? About waiting in line? About that inner feeling of getting ahead, but at the same time being respectful and courteous as society has taught us to be?
Finally on the flight that will take my wife and I to Paris, for a whole 13 hours. I haven’t been to Paris in some 15 years, and my wife probably the same amount. The country of Bresson. Continue reading “Fire to Snow”
I love Thanksgiving just as much as I love Christmas. I love the Holidays Season. The lights on the trees, the snow on the ground, the home cooking and getting together with friends and family around the dinner table. Laughter, arguments, opinions flying across the table, all just washed down with a good glass of red wine, or beer, or whatever is left at the end of the dinner. Continue reading “Nothing but Something”
The color has been removed! The green has been replaced by white. The grey? By white. The blue? By white. The autumn colors? By white. It has all been replaced by white as it snows outside. The first snow of the season. It’s a little late on arrival, but who’s complaining?
Detroit never disappoints. Snow, coffee, Bach in the background.
Colorless Landscapes. Or should I call them monochromatic? Or black and white? Continue reading “Colorless Landscapes”
Coffee should be on its way. We should be at about 30,000 feet more or less. It’s real warm right now, which feels awkward seeing how they were de-icing the wings just a few minutes ago, as a child looks outside. Continue reading “West Ave”
The Counting Crows have to be one of my favorite groups. I could listen to their albums over and over without ever getting tired of them. Not only do I like the music itself, but the lyrics. Phrases always seems to be disconnected, or make little sense, at least initially. But once you hear them a few hundred times they just kind of fit. Not to mention that Adam Duritz, the lead singer, has dealt with a dissociative mental disorder. But still, look at his craft, what he has produced.
And I dream of Michelangelo when I’m lying in my bed
I see god upon the ceiling I see angels overhead
And he seems so close as he reaches out his hand
But we are never quite as close as we are led to understand Continue reading “Northern Psychiatry”