The fountain has been photographed thousands of time, maybe millions. Hundreds by me alone. The dark green figures, weathered by time and passing seasons, support the bowl and gently falling water passing to the pool below.
The guests arrive at the mansion, now a hotel, unpacking luggage, taking selfies under the old stone arch at the traffic circle. The fountain has borne witness to weddings and celebrations, honeymooners and school graduations, to generations of visitors.
The silent witnesses appear in the background of family group photos, tourists and guests who visit on their journey through life.
I photographed the fountain, an artwork in itself, incorporating the figures into a visual story that sits somewhere on a shelf, or in a box of cherished belongings. The fountain, recreated by the camera, becomes an element of those personal stories hidden beneath the leather covers of books now scattered near and far from the courtyard where the figures still watch over the arrivals and departures.
An Unmapped Route: A Hiker's Blog 