kittyslave
2
This week it has been hard to get out of bed. It is August and the flocks of summer visitors have all flown. The kid, who is no longer a kid, has had their party; no one puked, they bagged all the empties ready for recycling, and instead of breaking stuff, someone brought a vase. When I did eventually get out of bed that morning the house was as tidy as it ever gets, there weren’t any unknown bodies sleeping on the couch, the basement floor, or the front deck. They are no longer kids and so they all have jobs and responsibilities now.
It is the end of summer, and every time you read the news it feels like the end of civilization.
Why do so many of us photograph our beds? Beds feel safe. They are the familiar comfort to which we return when we need to recharge our worn out bodies. They embrace us. They are the silence and darkness which soothe our jangled nerves. They are childhood memories of morning sunlight on a crumpled cover; memories of a time before jobs and responsibilities, a time before you realized the news mattered and when someone else laundered the bedding.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Rachel Irving and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
