Other Worlds

We organized our little toys, by size and style, laying them out next to each other in rows, those figures with faces, looking toward the bedroom door.

When you shut the front door of your house, and lock it with your key, and walk away...of course you plan upon a return.

Here in Oklahoma, I look up at our blue blanket of a sky, and I know the same sky hangs over my home village, deep in the Lebanese countryside;  where a tin mechanical robot toy,  surely buried in some heap, struggles to take a peek at the blueness.

Here, I pick up my camera, and I try hard to see what the camera has to show.  Each image is an open window, a young girl on the balcony, a friend calling out to me. I bend down to pick up a pebble, a flower, a sliver of time.

I always feel as though I'm photographing Other Worlds.

I want to see something my eyes can't show me.