As many of my friends throughout the world snuggle up next to the fire as the snow falls to the street, we here in Tokyo are in full blown autumn.  It seemed to arrive a little bit late this year, after all we are already into December.  There is that lovely transitional period that happens twice a year, in the spring and in the autumn.  The colors just illuminate the concrete and the corrugated metal, if only for a few weeks.

Breathe in the clean autumn air, and let those colors soak into your soul.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, and then repeat.

The sun shone so high on this crisp autumn day; however, I was feeling a bit down.  Wandering the Ichikawa streets back to the station, this image, captured my exact mood.

As I rode the train, I saw the sun peak out from behind the cloud and I was thankful for the gentle reminder that even though I might be blue, the world still has sunshine to make us feel warm.

As the sun sets this Friday night it is a time to reflect on the previous doing of the year.  It is a time to reason with the self and struggle how to make one’s self a better self.

The stone ages, wears, but the marks, and gouges remain.

Think about time, the ages, the amount of time that it takes a rough hewn stone to smooth like a river pebble.  Maybe, hopefully we can come closer to who we must be.

Love is the greatest gift.

Give and Receive it!

Staring into an empty storefront in Akihabara the other day, it brought back memories

of a project I had worked on 15 years ago.  I became obsessed with photographing empty

store fronts.  Building that are looking for tenants in the suburbs and environs of Tampa Florida..

My life had come full circle, and becoming interested with shop fronts that are abandoned and in need

of life.

Ningyocho is one of the Shitamachi parts of Tokyo.  Shitamachi literally means “down town,” but I like

to translate it as an “old part of town.  There are shitamchis all over tokyo.  Even though they are slowly being rebuilt and gentrified.

As I walked the streets I was fascinated with the window.  The way the glass, old and new would reflect bits of reality in its self, and then into my lens.  A metaphysical melding of my photographic world with the world that surrounds me.

Look into the glass, and tell me what you see.