Fourteen Black Photographs 3

Another one from this group of pictures.


This picture. Oh dear, this picture.
I mentioned when I posted them as a group that when I did these photographs I was at a very low point of my illness. Very dark days indeed. I think the shot conveys some of that darkness

I didn’t set out to take this picture.I was in the area and then found myself outside these windows of a building that was being renovated. The shot isn’t so much about the windows but about the room behind a couple of them. Other parts of the building held happy memories for me. This room held, mostly, quite unhappy memories. They are memories of an extremely difficult time that could have been so different. Of a time, under huge stress, I wasn’t behaving totally rationally. A time when I held ridiculously optimistic hopes that things might change, that another person might change. That’s a stupid hope. You can’t change people by hope or will especially if their basic behaviour beforehand has been unreasonable. I acknowledge that some of my own behaviour in reaction to that was unreasonable. I lost my way. In this room I learnt of, what was in a way, the death of a child. I thought I got over that, I thought I moved on. A couple of years later the actions and outpourings of another person dragged it back. Even after that I thought I’d got over it. I don’t think deep down that I have. Many years later, and quite recently, some very offhand and uncaring comments showed that I haven’t. These throwawy comments made me very sad and their offhand nature actually made me quite angry.

This picture tells quite a tale.


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