My posting here has become so infrequent I am sure that my only readers are myself and apparently people who are Googling 'abbey lee kershaw 2012' & 'janet jackson pics by ruven'.  Hello. 

I have recently returned home, as all travellers eventually do, from five weeks of summertime bliss in New York City.

I will write more about why I think it was such a damned good holiday soon but for now I just couldn't wait to share these two photos. I got my scans back yesterday and was in a frenzy of delight reliving the moments I had captured. So many were riddled with flaws - somewhere along the way my camera starting leaking light, my focus on moving objects is usually off, the light meter was broken etc - but they were just all so honest. 

If it weren't 1am, and I wasn't getting up for a flight in 4 hours, I probably wouldn't post these two photos together. They tell my heart two very different stories each which deserve their own space. 

That first man with his arms out, wide and unapologetic, he stood there for a good few minutes...just like that, standing there head flung back, greedily taking in all that he possibly could from the ocean, from the breeze, the horizon, the open space, the sun and all it's majesty. I admired how bold he was and considered joining him. He was both giving and receiving everything of the day all at once. How does that even make sense? I do not know but in that moment I couldn't help but smile as I admired this perfect picture of freedom. 

This second man, the one in the wheelchair, I didn't consider so much at the time. I was walking up the boardwalk as the sun was setting looking for interesting characters to photograph. From what I remember I just saw this scene, quickly snapped off a frame and kept on walking.
I guess that was why this photo hits me so hard when I got it back. What kind of mission was I on that I didn't stop to properly consider the person who had been before me?  
There is some kind of metaphor playing out with the birds which I don't think I need to put into words but I do know this is another story of freedom. Perhaps the desire or longing for freedom? I cringe to think that sounds presumptuous as to what that man feels, all I know is what I feel. 

Will be back at a more reasonable and less analytical hour, soon!