Path/Picture




Path / Picture
Hope Curran
05.02.17, 22h31
Paris, France
“The road is made by walking” -Antonio Machado

What will the weight of our human lives be? We walk and leave behind footprints that some may choose to follow. Do we leave trash bits, bombs, water wells or gardens? We take and give, pour out and consume. Us humans are full of paradox. 

                  To take photos is a risky task. A camera, pen or cellphone in wrong hands is a weapon lacking wisdom. We create. Writing words full of fear and freedom, sarcasm and sincerity, lies and logic. Our conversations and questions carry consequence. Each step causes change in either direction. North or south, side to side. Towards what? 

                  These paths we forge lead someplace, so step with caution and courage. We find ourselves at dead ends and promise lands, in the pit and the palace. Create a path not yet crossed, perhaps others may come along behind. Find a path that goes beyond the wall and immovable mountain. A path that is forward and fine, stretching out beyond this space and time. 

                  Take a step or two, boldly adventure and journey until you reach your desired destination. And when you arrive, it’s quite possible you will find that this way wasn’t wrong, but not quite right. For the destination lies not here, but just beyond. Unreached and untouched. Continue to ask and write. It’s the hope for something a bit more beautiful, brighter and redeemed in it’s fullness. 

Walk my dear friend on this path, however lonely it may seem. Make meaning with your hands and capture beauty as seeds in packets, waiting for winter to pass and plant in faith that these ideas and inspirations will take root with spring. Taking root in ready soil of fellow man’s soul. Growing and producing fruit that heals and restores. Nourishing this barren desert landscape of history and cultivating a culture that cares.  Create and continue.

Friends and foes follow and fall behind and find themselves fatigued. But you, oh-no, keep up the deep dancing and skipping into open fields. Run down into the valleys, tip toe and crawl through the shadows. March in triumph through the towns and rest when opportunity arrives. This path is far longer than realized. Stretching beyond our reach. Sooner or later I promise you: on this grand yet human adventure… You shall someday arrive at home.


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Between Blue and Sunshine

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The Language of Hope