I mopped my deck yesterday.
This last week my house crawled with workmen re-stuccoing my house. I’ve a new appreciation for the care and craft of stucco. I was a bit enamored by the careful hand work required to cover an entire house with a layer of stucco. They had scaffolding and ladders up and each person worked with a trowel to spread out the brownish-gray stucco. My house looks so nice now, compared to the disheveled and discolored white of before. I like it even more that I saw it being so carefully applied by individuals.
The reason I mopped my deck was to clean it up of that fine cement dust, dog prints, boot prints, etc. that covered it. I set my mop up against the wall afterward, on the concrete, and was intrigued (when I moved it shortly after) by the wet prints the mop strings left. So I fetched my camera, made more prints, took pictures, and turned them into monochrome. Each is different. There is something about controlled ambiguity that draws me. Maybe it starts me imagining, or drawing an indistinct image into the shapes with my mind. I love the still quiet of curiosity or wonder that it creates in me.