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  • Writer's pictureTuananh

Goodby My Kodachrome!!

Updated: Aug 6, 2018

March 21, 2009

Goodbye my Kodachrome!!

As lifelong companions, we stumble upon one of life’s less busy walks. There is nothing more genuine than to know that a stroll, a path, and a journey can only lead to one’s heart -- through her own. A short stroll down a dry dirt road that neighbors the running stream of

Picard, for I’ve been here many times before, but it is only now that I will remember each step as if it were my first. Yet it surely isn’t the first or the last, but the many that we’ve taken together. With a short ride down to the empty decrepit streets of Portsmouth, I see the tanning remainders of the early morning market, a pair of lost boys fashioned no less than the clothes on their backs in search of nothing left but some petty scales fromWant to add a caption to this image? Click the Settings icon. a fisherman’s profit. She stands there and her smile captures me and in these shadows I breathe again. Through the bars and running gutters that surrounded each edge of the building, it seems like we had left that small nook a little too soon and a little too late. It didn’t matter, with my best friend in hand, the world was the last thing on my mind.

Crossing the narrow sidewalk of a shallow bridged highway, I was greeted by some large bold words that reminded me of who He is and what His plans are for me. It is a future that I welcome. As the rows of small boxed-shaped, waterfront homes lined my every step, I couldn’t help but wonder what characters lay beyond each waist-lined fence. Some seemed abandoned, while others filled their gardens with every scent and every color thought to be forsaken in this land. In the distance browsed Fort Shirley and her magnificent red caps, I wonder what greeting she offers on a day like today. Now that a stroll had become a path, it was more than essential that my companion and I greet each stop as a destination. The white flashing sand at Purple Turtle and its many greeters surely was a reminder that this was a paradise to many if not a few. Along the bay were scattered ships, belonging to local fishermen or the wealthy sailors from afar. As I opened my rangefinder to the open plains of the sea, three siblings filled my viewfinder, swinging and cheering their way into my heart. Their innocence and youth was beyond endearing as some might say, but it was again a reminder of how such a time can be forgotten so easily if not acknowledged.

Our short stroll had now become a journey up into the heavens. The blue Caribbean waters with its endless reefs and explorers tempted my feet to stay a while longer. As I humbly walked towards the gate of the fort, I can only imagine the viewpoints that were yet to come. I was greeted by an older and stern local ranger, his skin naked and raw from a lifetime of sun. As I purchased a ticket or two to begin my, what was to be, an epic and dreaded journey of climbs, I was astonished by the short walk to her dungeons and quarters. As we edged the large cobblestoned walls that sheltered the oaks and pines buffering the hillside behind, the foot prints of the abore’ can be sensed all around me, but I marched on. A large beautiful and stone barked structure shadowed the corner of my eye. As I glared at it, it seemed to shun and forewarned my every move, for its branches reached high into the fog and its leaves have disappeared so many centuries ago. So many questions I would have liked to ask, but I am sure its stubbornness to answer would ruin the "€œair".

Large, coal, steel canons backtracked our journey from Moo Cow, targeting a large blooming cherry tree that filled the birth of the Picard River. Brother and sister on a date with their father, questioning the images that I have captured of them. The beautiful mango tree that centered the courtyard and the captain'€™s quarters gave a flashing reminder of what this place was: glory, tragedy, and romance. It was a time when revolutions were uplifted and dampened. It was a time when freedom meant more than expression. It was a time no different than now, when love was eternal and at no cause to take upon a path nor journey to find it again. It was in these moments that soldiers became men and as men they quipped their hearts to no bound. Her smile brings me back to this place and like a soldier of long ago, I am haunted by the journey.


The Keys, FL

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