A cop was burning old pictures of his ex-wife and dropping the ashes on the ashtray. Why? He was still hung up on her. Maybe… He wanted to burn whatever hold she has on him. Maybe… The scene before this one was the cop called on his ex-wife to help him on a case he was working on. She refused for a number of reasons. She cited conflict of interest. It turned out that he had another reason for meeting with her.
What happened? This one opened the escape hatch and parachuted off the plane without an explanation or a simple goodbye.
There were traces of falling out and I felt abandoned or discarded. I thought I was being positive when I let everything unravel---that maybe in time things will go back the way it was or maybe it was just an adjustment period and I am being paranoid.
At the end, I was validating everything I thought and felt when we had the TALK. (What a way to talk things over. Technology is boon or bane. It is the advent of cellular phones. I wouldn’t talk like this given another choice.) Some issues were cleared. Some were left unsaid. Some were delegated to time and space.
So after talking and saying what we both had to say, I said my final goodbye. I stamped it with a card signed sealed and delivered through FedEx.
The ex-wife said its time to move on. Maybe that’s why he burned their photos because he also wanted to move on.
I wanted to move on and the goodbye was never face to face. So I said farewell to the next best thing: photographs. Then I was ripping them over and over until they were thumb sizes and would fit the tin can I substituted for an ashtray. A lighter was on hand but frustrating to flick until my skin was sore before it produced a flame. I watched the flame travel from one piece of photograph to another until it made a small pyre.
I shot this picture as the fire burned and the photographs turned to ashes. Did I move on ...
What happened? This one opened the escape hatch and parachuted off the plane without an explanation or a simple goodbye.
There were traces of falling out and I felt abandoned or discarded. I thought I was being positive when I let everything unravel---that maybe in time things will go back the way it was or maybe it was just an adjustment period and I am being paranoid.
At the end, I was validating everything I thought and felt when we had the TALK. (What a way to talk things over. Technology is boon or bane. It is the advent of cellular phones. I wouldn’t talk like this given another choice.) Some issues were cleared. Some were left unsaid. Some were delegated to time and space.
So after talking and saying what we both had to say, I said my final goodbye. I stamped it with a card signed sealed and delivered through FedEx.
The ex-wife said its time to move on. Maybe that’s why he burned their photos because he also wanted to move on.
I wanted to move on and the goodbye was never face to face. So I said farewell to the next best thing: photographs. Then I was ripping them over and over until they were thumb sizes and would fit the tin can I substituted for an ashtray. A lighter was on hand but frustrating to flick until my skin was sore before it produced a flame. I watched the flame travel from one piece of photograph to another until it made a small pyre.
I shot this picture as the fire burned and the photographs turned to ashes. Did I move on ...
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