|Portrait of Cavafy haunted by the ghost of his desire.|
|The son returned home in the afternoon, but it was too late.|
The father had died in the morning.
|Two friends are playing cards. One is cheating.|
|Just to light his cigarette was a great pleasure.|
|He was unaware that at the exact moment|
he removed his undershirt, his body has grown to its perfection.
With his next breath, the moment has passed.
|When he was young man, it seemed impossible|
that he would ever grow old. Now that he is old, he cannot
remember ever having been young.
|There was something between them which they had alwayse sensed,|
but it would remain unspoken.
|After his shower he dried himself|
very carefully. And although he would never admit it,
it had all been for my benefit.
|I saw you, but you didn't see me.|
You looked right at me, but you didn't see me.
You would never see me.
|I could read it quite clearly in his palm. There would be|
a terrible tragedy. My love could not protect him.
|The old man photographs the young man.|
Description de l'ouvrage
Homage to Cavafy by Duane Michals
|Jaquette de l'ouvrage.|
La première photographie se trouve en regard de ce court texte introductif de Duane Michals :
Homage to Cavafy
Constantino Cavafy was a man of great feeling and even greater courage. His poetry was his life. And because he was a man who loved other men, he demonstrated his courage by making public these private passions. He lived then, as we still do today, among those brute people who would literally destroy him both physically and spiritually for the unforgiveable sin of loving the wrong person.
Despite this vulnerability, he wrote about the truth of himself with painful honesty, and the strength of his art protected him and freed others. I salute his courage and thank him for the gift of his life.