MPnormaleye
By That Time Night Had Fallen
My Dad, who has grown no wiser with age, once carved his initial into the spiked paddle leaf of a cactus just like these. As I have mentioned before he has the luck of the devil, and therefore he did not so much as prick his finger; he did however get a scolding from my mother for his wanton act of horticultural vandalism.
Michael has more sense. He chose to shoot the night, not the people or the plants, but the way colours cling on, in darkness. He reminded us of the dangerous beauty that exists as night falls, of the imaginary tygers lurking behind the agave, the dragons in the undergrowth, the mysterious rune carved into a far away cactus leaf.
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