It is everywhere. I do not mean god. I mean the elastic painful absurdity of life. The many moments we try to arrange, to direct.
When I am putting Rhys to sleep - I am there by his crib, kneeling, trying to calm him - I assume a posture similar to that of prayer, the archetype of a praying man. But I am not praying. If you saw me you might believe that I was. If believing is what you like to believe.
(photos by Lisa Murray)
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