Candids (at Venice Beach)

Willy Jaeckel: Dame in Gel, 1928

​One day you find yourself as a man you never knew. It’s the queerest thing, not recognizing ones self. Like entering another world slightly different than your own. Things are so familiar that, for a while, you can’t tell what’s amiss. But, before you realize it, the subtleties transition into brash overtones. And in time you’re taunted with the unsettling truth that you can never be that person you once were. Not that you would want to, at least not completely. But the reality is a bit ominous and confounding. The comfort in who you once were has vanished. With a moment of pause you contemplate the journey trying to think of the decisions that brought you to where you are. Only to conclude that there were no other decisions than the ones that were made and no one to blame. And there you are. Making decisions you don’t quite understand, wondering about the boy inside your heart and what he would think of this man he never imagined he would grow up to be. A man he never knew.