I didn’t realize that I had passed the 200 photo mark a few days back. So this is to mark that although it technically isn’t the 200th photo.

This is one of the circus performers from yesterday’s photo in the final stage of a sommersault.

I don’t know how clear it is from the photo but this is not a mirror image. It is actually two different circus performers held up by two different hands! The photo is cropped and flipped horizontally from the original.

Another one from the circus. This guy did some amazing stuff along with a fellow gymnast.

The rain came down like a wave of tears. They were caught. A moment. An instant. Under the rooftops. The gentle breeze blew away their words. He looked at her. Her profile against the diffused light of the street lamp in the distance. So many thoughts yet so few words. The water dripped down from the roof above and fell on his coat. He looked at his watch. Time had slowed down as it always did when he was in her presence. He took out a cigarette.

The lost letters. The connected food. The little words. The long silences. The invisible walls. The dried flowers.

The night was warm in spite of the rain. Her arms were wet. She made no move to wipe them. She cast a glance at him. He was leaning against the wall as always, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. So many similarities yet so different. The rain flowed in waves driven by an unknown wind. She remembered last night. Inexplicable feelings mixed with the sudden shiver that traveled down her back.

The late nights. The noisy neighbors. The rhythmic ringing. The passionate poetry. The rough stubble.

He wished the rain would stop. Their moment. Their instant of time under the rooftops would stop. Thunder rolled in the distance punctuating his thoughts. He shifted his legs.

“Do you think we should run for it?”

“I’d hate to see your dress get wet”

“Did I tell you that you look good in this dress?”

“I didn’t think you noticed such things”

As if on cue the rain stopped. They walked back slowly. A taxi would have been the logical choice but the thought never crossed their minds. The street glistened with water sliding down nooks and crannies. Their shadows almost touched.

The moment had come to pass. What was left unsaid would remain unsaid forever. The rain had taken with it their little secret. Years would pass. Times would change. But they knew. They knew a little secret that would remain in their hearts like unused clothes in an old wardrobe.

A little over a week ago I went to a circus with some friends, a circus which is apparently one of the best and most well known in Germany. Of course, my camera went with me and I got some photos I’m satisfied with. Here is one of them.

This photo has been digitally manipulated to a great extent. I used a much much warmer white balance and more importantly added a lot of dynamic range to the photo. So in the end this is not about what my camera captured but how I interpreted the scene afterwards.

I’ve never really posted any fun shots here so inspite of my misgivings I decided to post this. The woman to the right is my friend Katya whom the regulars among you may recognize from [here](http://www.visual.arthedains.com/index.php?showimage=106). I had gone with her to a Vivienne Westwood retrospective in Dusseldorf, a city close by. After we had seen the show we were walking around near the Rhine when we saw the poster and she asked me to take a photo of her next to it. After the usual ‘I was here’ snap I asked her to do an imitation of Westwood in the poster. This is what she came up with!

Again, let us take a break from Vienna for a couple of photos I shot in my garden this morning. I’ll be posting a monochrome version of this leaf from a slightly different angle tomorrow.

Do you remember?
Yesterday,
You asked me
What could I do?

I could
Suck
Your toes
Nibble
Your soft ear lobes
Kiss
Your eyelashes

I could
Blow my warm breath
On your neck
Caress your silken tresses
Flowing through my fingers
Like cool silver

I could
Suck your lips
Like I would a sweet lollipop
Dissolve your tongue
In droplets of my love

I could
Feel the texture
Of your burnished skin
With my blind fingers

I could
Explore the depths
Of your belly-button
With my naughty tongue

I could
Mix the limpid waters
Of my burning passion
In your earthen bowl

Is that enough?
My love