All is risk

All is risk! Maybe it's the rain this morning. Maybe it's the peaceful calm. Perhaps none of the above. Trawling through photographs I took last year, not without memory of course, but the photos I understand, tell you little about the narrative. All is speculation when one is viewing a scene. They are after all, just seconds in an otherwise dense field of thought. And, it is thick. Tightrope walker not looking down, just looking to the other side because that's the only way of getting from point A to point B. Too much space below where one could fall and disappear. Yes, maybe it's the rain. Slow, constant sounds and sometime back then in my other place, it was cold on that day and my kitchen window covered with condensation. The heat inside warmer than outside air. How things change. Recollections softer now and that's all. Does everything just pass into memory? Is everything doomed to documentation, just trace?