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Shutters and Lenses

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Four in the morning.

Humid air, thick and sluggish with summer heat. Skin prickling unpleasantly beneath cloying blue silk. Temporarily alone.

Dust catching on damp fingertips, a flick of wrist. Black and white images leafed through one after the other.

Eyes intent; absorbing, memorising shape and contour, light and shade. Scenes of life caught through shutters and lenses. All access pass to the workings of a mind.

Still a puzzle, can’t quite figure it out. Lips stretch in a half smile unconsciously, wryly. This puzzle need not require solving.

Folio shut, initials on cover traced slowly over and over.

J.H.W