A twist in a strap

I admit: it has been hard for me to write. While the words tumble in my head, the truth is I am afraid. Daunted by the idea that once I get going, the words will never stop coming. That I will be forever free falling in this universe of black and white, of sentences said and things that I longed so much to hear unspoken. There are no words. That is what they said. And all I wanted was for someone to tell me the opposite. Someone to say something little that would feel like a hand grasping my shoulder tightly, an arm holding me up as I fight myself. As I hide myself.

So I take pictures. More and more. Details that need no comment. A twist in a strap doesn’t necessarily need fixing. Maybe it is the same with people. If you try to straighten them where they bend, they will never reveal their truth.