samwiggins

[samwiggins]

Away …

[samwiggins]

Février Marseille

[samwiggins]

[samwiggins]

@kerstinkeller @samwiggins

Working through burn out surrounded by horses !!

[samwiggins]

indoors to outdoors

[samwiggins]

easter flower

[samwiggins]

just hanging...

[samwiggins]

a little bit of everyone on my desk this morning...

the desk shrine of memorabilia,

a life,

and that of loved ones...

[samwiggins]

plage blanche pour un amour, avec trois cigarettes.

[samwiggins]

what is and yet is not, what was, but still can not be forgot, how time changes and rearranges, perception.

Is it not in the eye of the beholder, where our fates await?...

[samwiggins]

night walk

[samwiggins]

with every step we walk the line, along known and off beat tracks thanks to the line, we never need look back ... just keep on track...

[samwiggins]

never really safe is the feeling in this desert of unknown people, the sounds of scooters constantly wizzing by, voices come from the shadows shouting discontent, smells of illegal meditation cover the smoke from crazed traffic, a permanent tension lingers in the air, a challenge each day to love or hate just a little more this city of the south, yet still I find the confused joys of being here a pleasure each day, oh to be in Marseille

[samwiggins]

yesterday was another inside out day,

the outside comes in and takes a hold of what is on the in(side),

fear of the unknown, of the what is to come, that what could be, the what if, and the why, the already un done,

oh those "why's", how they hit like a homemade nail charged bomb, that explodes and punctures every zone of stability, those nails how they fly,

each region of tranquility hit, any hint of a feeling of calm, gone, destroyed...

the inside meets the outside a sink , sank, sunk, slowly, drifting to the edge

the remains of the inner, panics, racing for reason, but the void is all that echos back in the landscape of treason.

the outside creeping in(side) yet some where in between, is where I hide, where I live, on the edge of the in-between, is where I've always been.

[samwiggins]

oh ...

some days are prone to waiting, for what was to have been done,

other days are started early, and to do lists are over won,

those days were when, everyone was here,

these days are now, and oh so very dear...

[samwiggins]

just thinking about my Mothers photo albums ...

whom has she made them for, whom are they now destined for?

like the other unknown people's faces and lives in photos that you can find and look absently at wondering around the weekend's flea markets.

It strike me that, I too will become just another unknown face, in a photo that was seized by a love one, capturing those important and passing events of my past.

my faded life in the hands of a stranger.

What will they imagine I wonder of my life...

[samwiggins]