maybe i write because i’m a failed photographer. everywhere i go, i miss shots i want to record, through hesitation or a broken camera. and if i don’t, i lose the camera. and if i don’t do that, i lose the photos or files. from about seventeen months of hard travel, i own about two sets of prints, one cd and a few random files. hopefully one set of photos and an undeveloped disposable, half full of photos await me at an acquaintance’s house an hour from prague, though i’ve been waiting about four years to get that bag back so can’t set my hopes too high. my ex, who i travelled with for about eleven of those months, agreed to burn some discs of everything she has. i can’t hold my breath for them either, as she’s an inveterate traveller and is about to disappear again, for another year or so, if she hasn’t gone already. not to mention that when i asked her, she started her reply with “I’ve deleted a lot of photos of you lately, but I can probably send what’s left.”
the photo i want today is a view of the train station at veliko tarnovo, bulgaria. i had to think hard to locate the fragment, but that’s the only place in eastern europe that we went by train, and left again the same way. it was a deserted, dusty station in the middle of nowhere. i can’t remember if it was bitterly cold or blindingly hot. i had a pillow. flaking red paint on the one bench seat. the platform at the same level as the tracks. walking behind the station house, a dusty carpark and a bus stop which has no information.
i don’t know if these shards are accurate, but i can see them. i’ve been through a lot of stations.