photo101rehab

to whom it may concern

Image | | andy townend

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(To, whom ever) was (innocent),

Assumed that I was wrong when I heard about your case! I can hardly believe what I have heard, how could you have behaved so? Why?

Very many people have approached me and raised this issue with me, wondering if you are even real. Your entire life seems to be part dream, part real, and yet neither.

Experience suggests that I may need to think more. I mean, your case is perhaps not entirely unique? Maybe you don’t realise? What were you thinking, were you even thinking? This is so hard for me to write about in this way. You know I rarely write letters. But, in this case, I felt prompted to do so. Every word pressed out of me.

Bürstner, did you know Bürstner? It may be pointless to ask, because I haven’t even finished yet, but I do hope you can tell me? I mean, if not, what was the point of it all?

Know this, writing this letter is so very hard.

Particularly as I have had a long hard day at work, the thing I really needed today (I jest) was to be pressed to write about your case. Finding the words is so very hard, I think you know what I mean? Don’t you?

It is almost time, do you realise that? There is not much time left.

Month by month, I have worried about your case. You claim to be innocent, but are any of us? Really? I wrote recently about questions of morality and criminality and guilt. Your case makes me think of that. Maybe you should too? Please do. It may make all the difference.

That’s the point you see. Are you or are you not innocent, do you even know yourself?

Little by little, I am beginning to see why your case is so important. Important to us all as we consider the big questions. And you know I like to do that, and that writing letters is so hard for me, I feel so pressed, every word a prompt to think. Yes, I feel word pressed.

Bürstner. Why do I keep remembering that name? Have a think and let me know if you know the connection?

Knowledge of your case has become common, many people like what they hear, comments are frequently made about the circumstances of how you fell, did you do it alone or were you pressed?  Many felt your words prompted you to step over the edge and do what you did. I believe many may follow you, only time will tell?

Seriously, I mean, just imagine!

Need can be a difficult emotion to handle, I mean, here I am writing to you about your case, but what I really need, is to see you again, talk first hand, hold your hand. And try to forget, you know?

But what then?

Said, do you remember him? He told me that in his country your case would be closed by now. Justice is harsh there. It would all be over.  Done.

Know that I will never forget you, your case, what you are going through, what you have been through? My heart is aching.

Me, I have no bloody idea what I would do in your shoes, I mean your case is very challenging, no?

Was anyone ever so hurt, so challenged as you. Your case appears so clear cut. But, they don’t understand, maybe they never bloody will. I do, you know that! Don’t you?

And when will it all end, do you even care? All the trouble your case has caused. For all of us?

Been too long. I’m so tired, your case, I mean it is exhausting. I need to be free and happy again. You do know that? And yet the circumstances of your case. Keep pulling me back in, like a moth to a flame.

K. Yes, K. He knew. He went through, I think, what you are going through now.  He was too emotional to fix it?

I need you, sorry, as I write, that really is all that matters. Who cares about your case? The truth will come out, but will they care. No!

For no one cares about the truth. Only about their interpretation of the truth, their morals, their right(s). Who cares anyway? And yet. You know I care. Right??

Because, if you don’t, then the third part, you know, his third part, the hard one, the one he doesn’t really want to write about? Well, if you don’t care then maybe the third part will be the only way. The third way?

Interrogation. Yes, that awaits you, oh Hid, please be brave, they can try, but even in your case, they can’t break you, not if you are strong.

Commission, or omission, that will be the question. That will be the determinant in your case, did you commit, or omit, did you act or not. Did you know?

Laughed. Yes, they laughed, bastards, when they realised. When they realised you might have a point!

Said, he knew, yes, Said knew and understood why you did what you did. Do you miss him? I do.

For, now, there is no going back, we can only move on. Whatever the outcome of your case. There is only one real outcome.

Bürstner, I almost feel jealous, I wish you would, or could tell me?  Who?

Was there ever a case like this? Like your case?

Slowly, I can feel the cogs grinding, the machinery turns, your case, our case, will be determined, and then, and then there will be no turning back.

What’s the point? Oh Hid, I am so tired.

Asked them all, what will be the outcome of the case?

Move on, they said.

Fräulein, I remain.

(yours)

 

(For the last two weeks I have been attempting to learn how to write better. I’ve been taking part in Writing 101, an online course hosted by Michelle W from the WordPress Blogging U.  

Today’s prompt was “Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as your springboard for inspiration.”  The twist in the  prompt was  to “write the post in the form of a letter” .  I turned to page 29 of “The Trial” by Franz Kafka, I went a little further than the prompt, and if you find a copy of the book, you may see how I twisted the twist.”

(for wordpress writing 101 – day fourteen)

serially found (2:3)

Image | | andy townend

2015_04_22_01634-Edit

 

Absolute thinking.

Such thinking really sucks. Big time.

That morning, the sun shone. Yes, really, it did.

Until it stopped.

I remember how it felt to finally feel happy, accepted for who I was. Even if that meant I was a rather poor tennis opponent.  I laughed, I relaxed, I thought about a future.  Dared.

The day after the shortest night.

Only, the night was only just about to begin.

I ran to the net, managed to tip it across, laughed as my opponent floundered, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

A leafy crescent in the centre of the world.

My world.

Which was about to implode.

Tired, and hot, we finished the game.

Walked back inside.

“Hey, there’s a call for you”.

Can you imagine. A time before mobiles existed. When shared phones in dingy corners were all that connected us? Or didn’t?

I took the handset, is that we called them then (I don’t think so?) and held it to my ear.

That familiar voice, one I thought had gone for ever. A voice full of things I could not, would not, hear.

“There’s been an accident. You need to come home.”

It wasn’t. But I did.

And so.  After a morning of tennis and smiles. Laughter and life. I sat on the dusty kerb.

Waited for a car from a familiar stranger.

To pick me up.

That sleek, sporty BMW.

White. Dark light.

Transported me from light. Into a night that seemed then without end.

And that afternoon, as my fingers turned numb, my breath caught in my throat.

I found, what I had lost.

(For the last two weeks I have been attempting to learn how to write better. I’ve been taking part in Writing 101, an online course hosted by Michelle W from the WordPress Blogging U.  

Today’s prompt was “if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined”

(for wordpress writing 101 – day thirteen)

dark clouds

Image | | andy townend

2015_04_19_01551-Edit

Today, I overheard two statements that made me think.

Pause.

And worry, more than a little.

Of course, that’s what I do.  I worry.

The first was something along the lines “he admitted he was morally guilty…” but “denied he had committed any crime”.

The second, in an interview discussing the looming British election “the idea of voting with your heart and hoping for some change…”

Two overheard snatches of discussion, though seemingly unrelated, seemed suddenly, and terribly, connected.

The power, responsibility and role of the individual in the great sweep of history and world events. When most people are simply worried about making ends meet and what they may, or may not, watch on TV tonight.

The feeling of helplessness that so many experience when considering where to place their cross on the ballot paper.

Will it make any difference? Does anyone care? Why bother?

Well, of course, the answer is yes, it does matter.

It matters an enormous amount.

As indeed does the trial of the former guard at Auschwitz who admitted to “moral guilt” but not to committing a “crime”.

It made me think where moral guilt starts.

And ends.

And, where committing a crime starts and ends. And what is moral guilt?

If we don’t vote, and the government that takes power goes on to commit atrocities, where do our responsibilities begin and end?

And, in collecting the money, yet asking for a transfer to other duties, how guilty is that guard.  Really.

And what would any of us do?

When we stand in judgement, do we stand in the shoes of all those ordinary people who allowed it to happen, looked the other way, felt powerless, or intimidated, or abused, or afraid. I wonder?

And crucially, at what point would we realise that our actions, or inactions, form part of a continuum that enables atrocities to take place.

Something worth thinking about before placing that cross on a slip of paper?

I think so.

(For the last two weeks I have been attempting to learn how to write better. I’ve been taking part in Writing 101, an online course hosted by Michelle W from the WordPress Blogging U.

Today’s prompt was “take a cue from something you’ve overheard and write a post inspired by a real-life conversation. Revisit a time when you wish you’d spoken up, reminisce about an important conversation that will always stick with you, or tune in to a conversation happening around you right now and write your reaction.” Each prompt comes with a twist. Today’s twist was to ‘include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.”

(for wordpress writing 101 – day twelve)

early bird

Image | | andy townend
“i love the smell of book ink in the morning” ― umberto eco
“i love the smell of book ink in the morning”
― umberto eco

the early bird

catches the worm

the early truck

worms its way

through

the

crud

(for wordpress weekly photo challenge – early bird)

death to adverbs

Image | | andy townend

2015_04_15_01048

It was hot, under a dry and searing sun which burned with unexpected intensity.

She walked with firm purpose across the bridge.

Her feet clad in flat soled shoes, head bowed, brow furrowed, looking down at the floor, perhaps avoiding the bright afternoon sun.

Or, perhaps, avoiding something else.

In her right hand, she held her smartphone, with a strong grip. She held it close to her body. So close, it suggested something.

Her expression implied worry, fear, a mind distracted and expectant.

The wires trailed from her ears. The message she heard from the voices in those small speakers creating a feeling of dissonance.

The world she knew. Not the world she listened to with a sense of longing mixed with fear.

In her left hand, she held those important things, the things she had spent all morning searching for.

The papers that might make all the difference.

Her eyes seemed dark and tired.

As if, she held a secret.

That they must never know.

The papers would tell her story.

Perhaps.

(for wordpress writing 101 – day eight)

give and take

Image | | andy townend

2015_04_14_00886-Edit-Edit

an unusually hot day, sirens scored the air, people jostled, pushed

“hey, look i told you, leave me be”

looking away, he grasped the bag tighter

“we can’t lose it this time”

looking down, intent, focused, aching, needing to void the pain

“yeah, right, tell me, or bloody don’t, what do you care”

“more than you imagine, this may be the last chance we have”

again, hunched over, looking down

“it’s no better, god, i think it’s got worse”

looking away, walking away

“told you it would end like this, you never bloody cared and now look at you, in a public place…”

not able to focus, too intent on the now, the need, the ache

“look, i can’t cope, i can’t wait, give me a break”

the handles of the plastic bag cut deep into his palm

“i can’t do this any more”

shrugging his shoulders, the metal screen, inviting

“that’s a bloody relief”

(for wordpress writing 101 – day seven)

afloat

Image | | andy townend

AJT_4348

               perhaps, the only way to float
                          to be, truly afloat
                                               is to let slip the anchor
                                                the shackles and rancour
                                                                        break the chains that bind
                                                                         the locks inside our mind
                                                                 and be
                                       afloat

(for wordpress weekly photo challenge – afloat)

afloat on belgianstreets

afloat on belgradestreets

unlock the mind

Image | | andy townend

2015_04_03_00579

So, I used to be chastised for starting sentences with that word, and in that way. Come to think of it I have always felt that my grammar skills lacked, well, lacked skills. But, no matter. I have always enjoyed writing and so, here I am doing just that.

Actually, right now, what I am doing is free writing. It is Saturday, and I am finally attending to my “homework” set on Day One (Monday) of the WordPress bl;logging u. writing 101 online course, the third such course I have taken recently in an effort to learm, or stop my braincells decaying as they will, or something.

The challenge here is the free writing means just hat, you write and write and write for a timed period with no clear plan and woithout going back to edit and chck, so please forgive the typos and Mac inspired c=sleppchecking if there is any, I m not allowed to check or go back and review – so, unusually for me, “i` will do as i am told

The rules, ssuch as there are any require you to write from the mind or heart or wherever for a fixed period and unlock water lies beneath, quite asacry prospect no?

What I am finding interesting is that I have set the timer of my phone and I will only wrote for 20 minutes and will stop and not eddf ay the end of that..And i am finding that my old exam fears have come to the fore, whenever I sat an exam, especially one that i knew i could handle and knew my stuff, i would shut down and write so fast that my fingers would ache and scream as my hand shot across the page trying to show the examiner that i really d ‘know’ , often of course that meant after the 20 allotted minutes for that question had es;asked, I would stop, look at the page and realise in a cold slimy feeling of horror, that i had answered the spring quarsion. ever been there?

So….pauses for breath, perhaps i will slow down a little, and in case you are interested, the timer now tells me there are 12 minutes and 18 seconds to go although by the time i finish writing that time will have changed

Which also reminds me how fascinated i am with time and what a strange concept it really is. What is now? Now is utterly meaningless, like schodingers cat 9yes i know i misspelled it but j am not editing tthis pieve ok? So, like the cat whose master i failed to spell, now is a hard concept to pin down, by the time we has uttered the word or considered now it is already gone, never to come back and only the future awaits, and that now rapidly becomes a memory and later fades, and yet at the times it was so very real. So, what is now?

I should also add that at school i was always told off for talking in class and generally not sitting still I remember well the time a frustrated teacher, well a dark
black clad irish priest threw a board rubber at me (ha anyone even know what one of those is) and the chalk dust exploded in my face which whitened as the prisest simply uttered my last name in a for of frustrated malevolence

And noww? Now I am writing this, against the clock, I really must get all my ideas out or i will fail and how will i survive/ And now? Now I am listening to BBC Fadio 4 listening to an article on why men once thought mullets were cool an ocasionally staring into space at the rain outside and listening to the laundry rotating in the machine behind me

Quick check on timer tells me that there are 5 minutes and 48 seconds to go, the radio is now talking about lewis caroll and I am beginning to tire, how do writers do this. And like in those examination days the point of what i am doing is lost in the moment, lost in the now as i strufggle to remember the question and try to piece together the facts and ideas whistling in my head with whatever the examiner sitting in a dusty room somehether thought it would be fun to set for students struggling in an airless room in the june sun, oh yes thanks for that memory

and so back to now, what is it, i really do love think about it, those people who say you must live in the now, not the present not the future, do they know what the are saying? like a mayfly to live in a moment that will vanish, never be there again, perhaps not even live at all because there is probably a mathemeticla equation that proves that now is an impossibility, so i must keep going, the clock is ticking my time is rnbbinyg out so this will no longer be now but added to al, the faded memories except this one with all the typos will be there for ever in cyber apace

so, i will keep writing, maybe to stay sane and then what will i do next, as now becomes yesterday

so, now that terror as the mind goes blank and i realise that i can’t remember the answer and that I will not be able to

(for wordpress writing 101 – day one)

(and for lucile’s photo101 rehab)

*precisely twenty minutes of free writing (which means no editing hence all the typos) for the first day of the wordpress writing 101 blogging u. course with a photo shot on a 32 year old olympus om10, shot in aperture priority mode with lens wide open with a roll of my favourite ilford delta 3200 inside, only edit to the images was to straighten the image in lightroom 5, after realising that i was apparently unable to stand up straight when taking the shot, go figure*

be brief

Image | | andy townend

2015_04_10_00608-Edit

I stumbled, and in doing so, kicked it into the gutter. Again.

I stopped. Knelt down on the hot paving stone. Reached out and felt for it.

Finding it, I picked it up carefully. Anxiously.

I could feel the cold metal surface. The familiar buttons. I knew what happened next.

I turned away from the light. Raised my hand, lifted a corner of the stained bandage from my eye.

I lifted it so I could see the screen. And there it was.

The message.

That simple, clear message, no ambiguity. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that I had to, I had to give it back. I must give it back.

That noise, again, the screeching.

The blinding white light and then.

Then nothing.

Gradually, I became aware of my surroundings.

I stumbled, and in doing so, kicked it into the gutter.

(for wordpress writing 101 – day five)