Architecture of Cities: Starlings in Flight:

Fifth Avenue Apple Store: General Motors Building :Grand Army Plaza

I begin each day with a hint of emotional blindness: The deafening quietude of noise calms the purpose ahead: I often imagine patrolling the streets my camera needs to see: Sightless heart, ears in quiet whispers: A day begins to become(…).

The Starling’s murmurations are seen awakening in flight near the night: Unequivocal noises step forward: The early night listens to a unity of trees rustling and water flowing: Silence is clear-I stepforward:

Starlings by the thousands and maybe millions contort, rhythmically in my skies: Beyond the above there is more: An imagined psalm read by a chorus: My eyes vanish within, and reappear.

My Starlings posing en masse, and across the skies: I seek to frame the Starlings patterns as moving frames: Starlings waiting, frighteningly like a midnight prayer: I awaken with each fluttering movements moment until again I sleep:

Inconceivable patterns of flight: The birds dance frozen in frame: The spectral of one million colored transparencies with indelible resolution mimic the Starlings skying patterns: My captures my frames now seen as Starlings in flight: The entirety of an entire career: Starlings evolving freeze framed morphing in real time: My life in images-if only for me:

The lone SLR camera accompanied by my murmurings and Starlings through my time and history(…) contorted to see: Colors heard in every direction: Imagine my everyday in flight; like a picture posed, and collected like Starlings in flight: My life in a mirror (…)like Starling’s murmurations.

Ten thousand dreams appear: A naked elephant remembers listening before sex: A naked Mynah bird always talks up a storm before sex: My dreams: My ghosts: My life in pictures.

Architect: Fumihiko Maki: New York City Building: 51 Astor Place

I hear voices from portraits past: Most have died some are still heard: Generations transformed into Christmas Carol’ like ghosts: The ghosts soar and contort among the colored millimeters of Starlings frozen in my imagined sky: Exposed in singular frames among millions my eyes dance with images mimicking birds in flight:

I walk the streets nomadically, but grounded in moments-past and tomorrow.

If I was a Starling in flight or frozen in time and place what would I see while soaring sprightly amidst murmurations: Flying impossibly ladened in stone: Flying fleet with wings just above the streets.

I navigate towards obstacles, differences and memory dementia: Mere overcoming becomes victorious: I beg: I beg to capture; capture the entreating streets: Buildings that present themselves front and center: Buildings that hide in corridors: Secrets and more are my captures: My eyes frame the reveal and the tempered absolutes:

Moments imagined with “ifs” you were me: I observe with joy and horror the dark energy of space thrusting through all known galaxies: A capture in the making is heard: The galaxy’s, thrust or the lyrical sky dance: I am hurriedly hurling across avenues: Slow tense focus: I explore what is left of my memory: The lights of days, the lights of nights and what will be reimagined in my mind:The lyrical Starlings murmurations abound in flight; My entire life in pictures contorted in my skies.