The images captured through my inner sense might well signify that I do take them as a hobby. Like you, I do like to share moments of capturing with you and all others. There are other stories as well. The stories and memories that haunt me, like others, to remember that I was a journalist, once upon a time. In my homeland. Those are the times images spoke more than written words. In the terrible times of war and the state of emergency! Images, at times and in many situations, become voice for the voiceless and the oppressed. Images talk, speak, convey, signify, communicate, freeze, archive, witness…
Decades of war, suppression of minorities by the state and the prolonged political crisis evacuated and uprooted people from their countries to alien spaces. Translocated like many others, it’s another birth to learn everything, start from the beginning (childhood to woman hood) to become a person in another country, call second home land? However, you try, you never become a person the way the others are! Call it nationality, color (race), language, gender and so on,
In dealing terms, like many nationalities here and elsewhere, to ‘be a Roman in Rome’, my profession or passion, energizes me recovering, the irrecoverable loss, my-self. Be it natural landscapes or city-scapes, traveling through them and trying to live with them, helps to resurrect my inner self. Am I aware that I might never be able to click a single image of my home land in the time ahead?
Are these images stand for themselves or do they translate my inner thoughts, the eternal loss and the self? Are they substitute new meanings? Do I capture to forget deep rooted memories of homeland? Am I in the process of transforming or creating a new home land, at least for myself?
Where do I stand when picturize them? Is this ‘I’ a singular or plural, complete or amputated, over-arched?
Images talk, speak, convey, signify, communicate, freeze, archive, witness… and may give hope as well!