On the other end we walked immersed in amiable banter, watching a glorious day unfold. The clouds gathered the town below in their soft embrace, the sky turned a rich and luxurious blue, a cool breeze sprang up over the water and ruffled our hair while the sun softly kissed our cheeks. We stood rooted to the spot, awestruck. Nature was having a field day with her elements.

The world collapsed
around their dreams
with a whimper
in the sudden rain of fire
from the sky.

Reflected in their empty eyes,
the Silence of the world-
spineless, unconscionable.

Exploded eyeballs, splattered blood
scorched skin, limbless bodies,
strewn around like confetti.

So many lives, so many little lives
snuffed out
in an instant of insanity.

Who are the culprits?
Of this continual horror
Blood stained fingers
quickly rise to point to
everyone, no one.

With eyes of steel he stares down the world. A man made of darkness and bright sunshine, walking in a world all his own.

Standing alone, like a prima donna, she ignores the world around. Surrounded by the shining baubles of a superficial world she is nonchalant, confident of her infinite charm and easy allure. A stylish icon for the digital age and a madonna of the future, she’s got the look!

There are certain shots that develop in your head, day after day, like…like the verses of a new poem. Frame after frame, you peel away different compositions and angles until something clicks and you attain that flawless frame, where everything is balanced and the light is perfect. And then you go out and actually capture that shot as it is in your head.

Like the photo she posed for me the other day. The place was an old abandoned factory. She was in the middle, lying face down, curved around an old oil drum, her ass pointing towards my camera and two of her fingers inside her dry vagina. I chose an aperture small enough to get everything of her in focus, from the tips of her fingernails on her sex to the look of wide-eyed innocence in her eyes. There was no flash or artificial light. The available light came from huge glass windows from either side of her in the distance, diffused and soft. I shot off a few hundred shots as her cunt became progressively wetter.

It was a shot that had been popping up in my dreams and then later seeped into my every conscious thought. I never thought I could actually get the shot in reality. But it happened.

She was doing this only for me. I didn’t ask her. She asked me. Why? I’ve no idea and am not interested in finding out. But that didn’t stop me from speculating. She always had this thing for voyeurs. In fact, that is how I got to know her in the first place. I used to observe her all the time. She lived opposite my house, only a narrow space separating our homes. The line of sight from my bedroom window dropped directly into her bedroom. Each evening, I used to wait for her to come home and go through her characteristic languid yet very erotic process of shedding her clothes one by one. Actually, I found out much later that it was all a show for me. She had realized from the beginning that I was observing her. I still don’t know how. So she would go through the exact same motions, day after day. She derived as much pleasure from it as me, perhaps even more. It helped that her bathroom was attached to the bedroom. Both the observer and the object of observation were influencing each other.

The silence in the vast empty space sounded natural as we did not need to communicate. A short wave of my hand and she would adjust her legs as I wanted them. An eyebrow raised and her eyes would speak the language my heart wanted. Click…click…click…the cameras clacked, capturing her for eternity. A funny thought suddenly flitted through my mind. What if there were a nuclear holocaust and these photos would be all that survived; a last testament for humanity’s existence? I laugh inside myself. How many schools of thought/theories would arise over these pictures in some distant future? I laugh some more.

We took frequent breaks as she couldn’t hold that pose for long. But I think there was another reason. I think she was getting off over the whole setup. So she cooled off a little during the break, sustaining the excitement but not peaking. Later, as if to prove my point, she fingered herself to a violent orgasm, off camera of course.

The heat, the wet wet heat clings to me like a second skin. I dream of blue lagoons, white sandy beaches, floating on water with a cool mango lassi, tongue numbed by ice-cubes. She laughs at my discomfort and dreams, a tinkling laugh flowing like a fresh waterfall.

…and the river flowed, like my thoughts. People hiding in the shadows. Quiet, listening to the music the river made as it tripped over smooth stones. Over the bridge old saints stood guard over humanity, sentinels of faith and belief. Far above, beyond my reach, a lone cloud spiraled in on itself like a shy child unable to open up, hiding its many secrets.

Abandoned and empty. A place where time has no meaning and the windows look into emptiness. The world moved on, into newer places. But the old still exists. In a world all its own. Stripped almost bare yet full of meaning, waiting to be understood.

Two of my favorite colors. Green, the color of new life. Blue, the color of inner calm.

The lights fell
From the heavens
Streaking our senses
With raw emotion

The skies split apart
And showered us
With shattered sounds
And sizzling colors

It was a night
Of pomp and passion
It was a night
Of visual violence