On portals.

On portals:

There is another land, that which lies just beyond the open doors and windows and fences and walls of this world.  Behind these structures live stories of woe and sorrow, celebrations of new birth and new love, familial contention and secrets hidden just-so.  The portals are painted and tattered, worn and pristine, cracked and broken, adorned and stark.  They are bright and mundane, numbered and lettered and dusty and dirty and immaculate.  They provide insight into the beauty of humanness. Ubuntu.  Where resolution and destruction simultaneously resonate within walls of adobe, branches, livestock.  There is that light.  The one I’ve often mentioned that the most expert photographer struggles to capture, enrapture into one silly, little, two-dimensional shape.