Calcutta
If I step aside...people will rush in, to fill the empty space, people are not enough to fill emptiness anymore. Crazy indifferent me, trying to figure out if home should feel like this, feel like a fairy tale, astonishing and fantastic.
But after all, I feel like a stranger, stranger in an enormous ocean of men, strange men, fast men, business men, empty-eyes men, street-corner-smoking-men, dashing men, smashing men, lashing men, laughing men, troubled men, travelling men,I-hate-standing-in-a-queue men, I-love-this-city men..
Children too, dirty children, happy children, barefoot children, rich children, children crying, children begging, children in streets, children in expensive cars…looking out of rolled-up-car-windows…at each other.
Calcutta is volume, overflow, vehicles, smoke, streetlights, headlights, helping hands, soft voices, shouting street hawkers, hustle horns, heroes, non heroes, 12 rupee chicken rolls, carpeted continental restaurants, missing pieces, missing faces, mini- buses, supermarkets, neon-obsessed air conditioned malls, candlelit homes on the freezing foot paths.
And its not a shame at all, its dirty but its home, I am way off course and drifting now but once upon a time I found too many things here at home…street football, bicycle races, street cricket, pretty faces, school friends, school trends, after school junk food, overfull school van, 5 o clock evening enthusiasm, and the surround sound of love..
Goddess. Murshidabad
"A little girl next to the Hoogli river in Murshidabad. She was doing the laundry with her family in the river. She asked me to take a picture of her." - Claude Renault
Now it’s more like
Oh no what’s this?
Everything is still the same
And yet
Everything
Is just different
claude renault's photographs
Come see for yourself
I will show you around
