There is a time for everything. There’s a time for eternities. There’s a time for colours. There’s a time for hope that you’ll be the best basketball player in the world, or at least in your country, or at least in your city, or at least, one day, dunk. There’s a time for light blue hope and deep blue skies. There’s a time for rainbows and dandelions and bananas and psychedelic T-shirts. There’s a time for blue eyes, and brown. There’s a time for colours.
And then there’s a time for black and white.
After forty years of photography of bright and loud and screaming photos, I am coming home. From here on, all will be black and white. There will be stillness. There will be calm. There will be people for what they really are, in their eyes, in their, dare I say it, their souls.
I dare not say it. Let the photos do the talking. It might be wind and nothing, it might be a random fortysomething rambling in a secluded corner of the net. It might be futile.
But it might also be worth it.
Let us go, then you and I, under a colourless sky. Oui. Let’s see what might be.