Dropped D at train early this morning. Still dark when I got back, but clear signs of an unsettled day ahead. Reddish tinge on the dark clouds behind Mt Keira. May as well take a few photographs. May as well go for a run. Returning on the narrow track beside Byarong Creek, running close behind a row of houses, I recognised the best light and realised that I’d miss it in the eight minutes or so that it would take to get home. No matter. The images would mean nothing if I didn’t continue running – if I didn’t complete the run properly – although nothing of the run itself would appear in any case. It is just that the running lends the photography meaning, while at the same time relieving the photography of any heavy responsibility to be meaningful. The two activities provide alibis for one another. Like decent strangers sharing a railway carriage, without exchanging a word, scarcely knowing one another’s names, they watch each other’s back.
