Thursday, September 24, 2015
The Way of Things
I'll write tonight before dinner as I will have to leave early in the morning for the factory and will have no time then. It matters little, really, as the blog has died a quiet death. But that matters little, really, either. I am not writing for anyone here (though there are people who read this blog that I must be aware/beware of) anyway. It is just a record, of sorts, incomplete but somewhat suggestive.
I have a chance to photograph at a Moslem market tomorrow. I didn't even know it existed, but it comes together in a lot nearby where people bring sheep and goats to sell. My friend invited me. He said I can get in with him and that I could photograph him slaughtering the sheep he will buy. "Wear shorts," he said, "and old shoes. There will be blood." I don't relish the thought of the slaughter, though I realize that is how the meat I eat gets handled, but I am mad to go and photograph. My friend is important in that community and says I will be O.K. as long as I am with him. Trouble is, though, he will be going while I have some meetings at the factory. I am not certain yet what I will do. I think this only happens a couple time per year. What is important, anyway? My fear--truly my only fear--is that I either won't a) be able to make good photos, or b) that I will dishonor my friend. I think both of these are highly likely.
I will go or I won't. That is the way of things. That is, truly, what people do. Much time has passed since I began this entry. I have eaten dinner and Ili and I have talked much about nothing. And now there is the whiskey and preparing what I must have prepared for tomorrow.
It is the way of things. It is what people do.