My thought, when starting this project, was that it would encourage me to get behind the lens again, something I've struggled with since the diagnosis and death of the hound. In trying to find the joy in every day though, I'm being forced to confront my grief. This journey I've realised is more about the heartbreak and allowing it free reign, than about the photographs I'm endeavouring to take. I'm aware that the vibe, or energy I'm exuding, is compromised and I need to embrace that. Some days, like today, are worse than others.
In the first two weeks after the hound's passing, I needed to be in the midst of people. I needed a presence, another body other than my own, to be around and about when I rambled. In the past the hound and I had purposefully sought the uninhabitated less well populated spots to ramble. We usually rambled at sparrow fart when the rest of the world still slept.
Now, 3 weeks into the grieving process, I'm craving that solitude again. Places where my eyes can leak unhindered and unfettered. Places where I can scream if I want to and no-one's there to hear.
I need to feel my girl's presence in the parks and on the beaches where we rambled. I need to feel that ache in my heart because it's real.
And it hurts.