Foot

Often when I was younger I would play a game of staring
into the darkness as I lay in bed. I was fascinated that it
isn't a plain simple black - it's a swirling, seething of greys.
Once you become aware of it and watch it more closely, it
seethes and swirls even more. It comes closer. It swells.
Until you have to stop and turn away - because it is coming
closer and closer into where you are and you can no longer
tell that it is outside you.

Only a few years ago I went through a phase of playing with
my hands in the dark. I would slowly take my hand up
towards the ceiling, watching how it faded and merged into
the grey fuzz, becoming invisible. Then I would bring it back -
a vague shape growing solid out of the miasma, acquiring
crisp detailed outline. I would twist it around, make shapes
with it, as if for a photograph.

That was how I came to take pictures of my foot in the air.