“I never wanted to be well-rounded. I do not admire well-rounded people nor their work. So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has ever been done by well-rounded people. The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges, because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design.”
-Harry Crews
“I never wanted to be well-rounded. I do not admire well-rounded people nor their work. So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has ever been done by well-rounded people. The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges, because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design.”
-Harry Crews
Real atheists don’t talk about it.
Picture of the Day. Helmand Province, Afghanistan. December 25, 2010. Royal Navy door gunner Petty Officer Richard Symmonds in Christmas uniform to drop off presents and mail to troops last year.
Photo Credit: Reuters. Via.
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“…you just don’t lead ‘em as much.” ugh!
Beautifully I speak they say
They say I own a wonderful heart
But don’t they know I have a dream
To keep my lonliness apart
Is there nonone else on earth?
At times I talk all to myself
So wonderful this heart of mine
Begs beautifully to God for help
Lighted lanterns laying lonly
Studious students standing stunned
Wanting wishing waiting watching
Who the hell lost or won
Hey compassionates here I kneel
Feel and heal you let me fly
Dreams in knots pray undo
So peace I smile I live I die………
The Teller (Smithville, TX, 1974)
Her name is Francis. She was a teller from a small bank in Smithville Texas and she is the subject of one of my uncle’s most memorable portraits. It hung on his studio wall for years. I lost count of how many times he told me her story.
He photographed thousands of people over three decades but said he’ll never forget the girl with the curly hair and hazel eyes. “She was always energetic in front of the camera but on this day, something was very unusual. She sat motionless and quiet as if she was somewhere else. It wasn’t the Francis I knew” he said.
I asked why she would allow him to take this photo when she was clearly upset. He replied “I don’t know why she was upset. I asked her if she wanted me to stop but she said ‘no no keep going’ so I did. That’s when I took this shot. I had no idea it would be her last photo… but maybe she knew.”
What was she thinking?
Just a week before this photo was taken, Francis was present during a robbery at the bank. She was unharmed.
Just two weeks after my uncle took this portrait, she disappeared and was never seen again.
Photographer and filmmaker Andrew Shapter is making a narrative feature about the disappearance of Francis Wetherbee. Watch a preview here.
A bright park bench
where they once sat
together.
Her eyes sparkle,
a little extra water
remembering those touches
from yesterday.
The beautiful lady,
the dashing man,
dreams to live,
life to be had.
She sits alone
recalling the one
who was taken
away.
A breeze stirs
on a still sunny day.
A whisper to her ear.
A feather on her face.
He is here.
Pressure sure, but light.
She smiles
as he holds her
wrinkled hand.
