FLIGHT

FLIGHT

The flow of the fates is complex and unpredictable. The reality one finds oneself in is not always welcoming, with flight an enticing response. But to where does one run when physically one won't, one can't?  Retreating  into memories of places and moments; into illusions, thoughts far removed from the situation that so disturb is perhaps the only recourse. To lift oneself above the fog of circumstance and breathe - if only for a moment, only virtually - new airs before concentration is broken and the dream shattered.

Searching diverse memories for solace or retreating to inner places to hide provides a space, a separation from which to consider a difficult situation. However, one cannot disconnect from fortune.  No matter how deep the illusion seems it will be compromised and the aspiration broken. It can never extend far enough to offer true escape. One must inevitably return to the focused glare of the authentic, to accept the turns of the labyrinth.

The images here were places of rest on my own course of late, disparate points where one has put one's head above the clouds to see for a moment something Other before returning to the troubled path and facing the road ahead.