On The Write Path

White on white

I don't know what to write. Our workshop leader suggested we use people to help drive our narrative... but people are seldom part of my narrative. I live alone. I travel alone. I meet and greet and talk to people all the time, but... they are seldom part of my journey. Argh.

Mandal, Norway:

White on white

Decide to take the bus. Run to it. Pray it won't leave for a few minutes if you get there at the last second... maybe...

Sit behind a woman on crutches, point the camera out the window. Try, real hard, to capture something interesting in a landscape of pine, birch, rock and water.

Lo! A horse! Did you click on the shutter quick enough? Find out later. There's more boring landscape to witness. Try to imagine it as exciting. Try harder.

Don't bother. Mandal is a white town. White houses. White buildings. White flowers in front of white lace in white windows.

Try your hardest to make something of that!

Only the people, in various hues, add some color. And they are few.

Mandal is a small town with a small wooden center, a harbor of small boats, a couple bridges... white, of course and low and short.

The only big thing around are the rocks. Huge rocks. Hard dark igneous rocks that look like they'd been tossed around by giants.

White buildings huddle in their shadows.

Except for today.

There are no shadows! The Sun has taken a Spring Vacation and sent her grey minions to shower their love upon you.

You grumble your gratefulness and seek shelter.

Snap a few last pictures. Find a postcard of white buildings. Avoid that pale wet whitish slant coming for you... run to the bus.

Say thank-you to the women who chases after you with your dropped scarf.

A bright green-yellow-orange plaid scarf.

A welcomed spot of color.

© Kåre Enga 18.mai.2015 i Kristiansand, Noreg.