Witnessed | Maricourt - July 2012.
I’m a strange man. I can walk for hours in aimless circles, glued to a small window pressed against my face. Searching & searching, incessantly. Driven.
I look for intent in a windblown blade of grass. I see drama in a game of cards ablaze in late afternoon light. All of it is a goddamn scene to me & everyone & everything’s a player, animate or inanimate, still or moving. I’m pulled by this manic sense of urgency.
It all screams to be witnessed & I can’t stop myself - not for an hour, a minute or a second.
I’d miss too much.
Way too much.