Contrast

We speak of memory
and photography. She is
calling me from a
laughter-deafened winebar. I
am sitting on the toilet.

11 June 2008

I managed to cut this down to a tanka, by saying that "memory" is two syllables. Pat and I had been texting back and forth about a new Chinese restaurant she'd just tried, and I was just stepping into the loo, when William came rushing up with my mobile, saying "Do you want to speak to my mum?" to the person at the other end. It became obvious after a while, that it was Pat, trying to engage him in some polite conversation, before speaking to me. I said I cldn't chat for long, as I was desperate for the loo, she said she didn't mind if I talked to her on the loo, as other friends did so all the time. She said she'd got bored texting, and wanted to talk to me. From the background noise, I guessed she was at Grape Street, and was bellowing at her to try to be heard over the ruckus, but she told me she cld hear me better if I spoke normally, which felt very strange. I have no idea how we got on to the esoteric subject of photography: we covered whether a good photographer can still take good photos with a bad camera (yes, certainly good compositions, but exposure and lighting might still be a problem...); how important post-production is; whether one shld actually take photos to capture memories at all (she mentioned a short story by Calvino (?) about taking photos on a beach, which she felt was relevant here); is sight the most important sense in memories (smell was important to both of us); the link between my poetry and photography (see my profile!), etc etc. I was, of course, struck by the ludicrous contrast between our respective locations (mine in particular!) and the elevated subject matter...

I don't really like the title, but that's the best I can come up with right now.