The Creaking Chair - Part XII
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhriTFsK1uu4ZLik0AvFjrEpV570ufb3t-GYVVy19IYhIorQQbsNsTIN1a0HKWwkRz-lFe59FrW7E8ACR0vjfB8ah-lWlMR6uq5MGwcLOonHIXLbNP6trn5lJQf_LnJosgTnqxh8q0EjkEK/s320/Creaking+chair.jpg)
28 th May 1999 I have an abnormally large collection of photographs moments I have captured over years and I use them as mirrors to keep me grounded on a plane of simplicity so my pictures are not the regular friends laughing in a pub kinds or teens banging their heads in a rock concert or even the quintessential birthday party as a kid with the lettered cut out on the wall calling out ‘Happy Birthday’ and the beaming smiles of friends behind the cake & the Birthday Boy. My collection has a rather abstract view of life A fallen eyelash resting on a copper pooja thali; the queer expression of a rebelling atheist An aimless braided chair sitting idle on a sunny day with a hint of cloud in the background; the untainted memory of a peaceful afternoon embossed upon the mind A rope line with my mother’s freshly washed saree hung for drying the untarnished smell of unfiltered warmth spreading through the heart A shuttered public library w