When my parents are home, our entry-way never looks this bad. My mom probably straightens out the shoes 2 or 3 times a week. But alas, they have been out of town for almost two weeks now, and my sister and I can't be bothered to put the shoes in order when we're just going to be messing them up in two seconds.
Unfortunately, as I glanced around the living room today, looking for inspiration for another photo, I realized that this mess of shoes resembles a mass grave. Or at least, it reminds me of the images of genocide that they showed us in school.
It was a morbid thought when it entered my mind. And it perched there all evening as I remembered the horrors of our past, and the sick beauty of the photography and art that has portrayed that suffering over the years. I guess you could say that I brooded over it until I finally took the picture and let the thoughts escape my mind through the image, to camp there for a while.
Sometimes taking pictures is very cathartic...like mental fly paper, the photographs draw the feelings towards them until they stick like glue and dislodge from my mind, to reside elsewhere.
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