Pirates are moments of stolen time. Something that once was, but can never be again. You see sometimes images take 30, 40 and even 50 years ago, recreated but they are not the same. The moment that was is long past. You can’t recapture what was. At that moment, that captured fragment of light shards we find both a path and way. Today we are pirates, dressed as though are the scallawags of the deep blue sea.
Oh yeah, and by the by, polite pirates that say argh, please and argh thank you. We wouldn’t, as pirates want to upset our mother who expects please and thank you as part of our discourse, our existence. Moments, trapped light that seeps out of an image. I would like to say that each of them triggers a core response. But they do not, I remember the events. I created folders once to contains the images captured. The light restrained captured by the walls of the folder.
This folder, this day was pirates and cub scout cakes. The pirates because that was the theme of a friends birthday party. The boys would wander to that party, in a vehicle, not a ship. They would not heave too and throwing boarding ladders storm their friend’s house. They would carefully get out of the car. Be walked, then to the door by their mother and gifts in hand attend a pirate festival at a friends house. Light captured, a moment captured and now just a memory.