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It started as a drunken debate. Often the case. Orestes was attempting to re-ignite his enthusiasm for photography and I was being frightfully old-fashioned about the merits of the medium. I’d like to think that I was playing devil’s advocate, but the truth of the matter is that I believed words to be the superior means of communication. Our next meeting was the raw material for a friendly contest he brought his camera and I didn’t bring notebook and pen. No desire to be mistaken for a detective or someone desperate to be noticed as a man of letters. The game wasn’t over- we agreed to expand on this idea.


Would it be possible to respond to a picture with words and vice-versa?

The answer was not a resounding “Yes!”. Ironically, it was far easier to turn an image into words whilst avoiding a literal interpretation. I suppose that this was an early indication that what I wrote didn’t make much sense to anyone but me. The two of us stumbled on without much idea of direction or destination. The drink didn’t help.


Not forgotten, although neglected for the pressing demands of real life. An unsatisfactory state of affairs. This collection represents a sketch of what might have been and is (almost) unashamedly self-indulgent.


I was questioning the point of subjecting anyone to its vagaries and also worrying about creating the wrong impression. Orestes says publish and be damned.


Liverpool Steve In reflective mood.

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