My eye is less inventive than the cunning eye of photographer Lee Ka-sing--and more literal (a fact that surprises me somewhat). The object at the left, in this exquisite photo, may be a lens or a microphone, but I see it as a jet engine, cradled in its nacelle.
In the photo at the right, I see a walking stick, leaning in a corner. For me, this walking stick is unquestionably standing by a seat in a railway car.
My reading of these images is modified from whatever it could have been by the recent suicide of chef, writer and tireless, exuberant TV-traveler Anthony Bourdain. I see him waiting beside throbbing airplanes on rudimentary tarmacs in small distant countries, and I see him sprawled, snoozing briefly in the sun, on some sweltering over-crowded train in India.
