Found this arresting twosome in a window one night recently. Floating feet; two soles pressing against glass or water or fabric or, possibly, all three.
A pair of feet is so familiar, but not from this angle. And not in a store window at Christmas. Look at the way the ankle begins to move into the calf before disappearing, the way the whole body seems suggested. It pulls me into a trance of wonder. The gesture becomes a portrait of beginning steps moving into the new year.
As I start writing in my new moleskin calendar, still reeling from the intoxicating blur of December, I'm feeling a little floaty myself. I'm not sure where I am anymore, or where exactly I'm going next.
I'm suspended...but getting ready to move. Yesterday afternoon, I cleared 12,000 images from the three bulletin boards across from my desk. The slate is blank. Lift off has begun.
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