Living Images

2020.11.24, by Anatolij
Filed under Grief, Journal

I read the obituary of a professional photographer who recently died. I had met him once. “Who are you? Are you a █████?” “No, I’m █████” “Then you need to get out.”

I didn’t know that’s who he was at that point in time when we met, though I had followed and admired much of his journalistic work. He was not gruff, or rude. He was simply busy. I don’t recall seeing him afterwards—we were probably both busy attending to our respective affairs, though he likely kept his eyes on me from a distance—I spoke, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was involved in post-production somehow. The obituary featured a sensitive photo of him… Hands together, looking down at the table in his glasses, thinking. I would have liked to know him, or to work with him. But now it’s too late.

I think about Giovanni and—is it worth it? Is it worth going on, like this, trying to—

I feel so helpless, crippled by so many things. My injury being one, and the most significant of them all. But you see, I’m not ready to die, I’m not ready to retire. To me both are the same thing.

So much of my time recently has been taken up by “domestic” concerns, cleaning this, ordering that piece of furniture, research, study, but not—not working the things I want to work on. Helping Ant manage her starvation anxiety, sharpening the knives, of all things lately helping Yumeka research shamanism in Asia. (It is quite a fascinating topic.) The little things of life keep me busy, and I understand how fulfilling that is for Ansel—he really is a home-buddy (did I say that correctly? I think that’s correct, but the others are snickering at me), and I’m not.

I still have yet to finish my pieces on Colorado. Or my course on Understanding Western Music, or my textbook on Western Architecture. There is too much life and not enough me to go around! I can hear Giovanni laughing at me now… “You’ll die stuffing your brains while your other half dies stuffing ’er stomach!” That’s rich coming from him. And what did he die of? A full heart…

Yumeka, to my surprise, did something altruistic yesterday. He forged someone’s signature so they could cancel their car insurance whilst incarcerated. It was just a matter-of-course for him, but I’d never seen him take responsibility for or marginal interest in the affairs of others outside our circle.

And another thing. Though Yumeka did the searching and practicing of forgery, Giovanni penned the formal signature. And I could tell it was him laughing at the whole affair, and telling █████’s parents not to worry about [missing] the collect calls [from the prison]. Is he back? Can we be together again? I’d like to think so. His dreams never died, just the man did. So long as we stay close to them, and keep his heart, then…

I have to finish his portrait. Sigh. Ansel is encouraging, but… Tisk, he’s so cute…