The Silence of the Past

01st September 2016
The strain of living with death in a family eases with time, it heals slowly with memories to hold on to. The struggle of coming to terms with a brother killing himself takes longer, well it does for me, no longer able to cope he calmly ends his life in a most violent way with the help of Virgin Railways intercity service. Our mother struggles daily not because he went first but because he decided nobody could help him, all was lost, no light at the end of the tunnel. To be in that deep dark abyss I cannot imagine, I struggle with my own depression, its a personal thing, its my personal fucking hell hole, you will never know. But we do have sympathy for each other just lacking that measurement of despair. We can measure temperature, x-ray that bone and scan that soft tissue but no we don't know each others depths.
In a chance post on twitter I suggested I was bored with life hence my weird photo style and the response was "There's always suicide" to which my response internally was a feeling of great sadness. The response was something I would have posted myself before his death, on a positive note though I did find the funny side fairly quickly after my initial groan but still the lingering sadness of Paul's absence.
Moving on from the subject of popping your own clogs I did like images from the roll of film so here is a pretentiously named image with the help of the Abstract Art Title Generator

Intuitive Vision of Deaf Context


Mamiya RB67, 50mm, Ilford FP4