Many wonderful comments about my most recent gallery, "my morning toilette." Deep gratitude to all who have taken the time to view it. I'm taking in all that people are saying and filtering it through my lived experience. As you can imagine, this is a very personal subject, one I'm struggling to express photographically. For some, my efforts seem to be successful; for others, not. I'm not sure what I think of it myself. As I said yesterday, it is very much a work in progress.

This morning (Thursday) I took more photos and posted five of them. I also deleted one that I'd posted yesterday. CLICK HERE to see the updated gallery.

The image I've posted here does not appear in that or any gallery--it is an experiment I created in response to a comment I received by Anna B., an exceptional photographer I've met on David Alan Harvey's "Road Trips" blog. This is what she wrote:

"The work you've posted gives me a glimpse of what you SEE when you emerge into the world each morning. It's very literal and a bit too obvious for my taste. That said, I would love to see more of YOU and your "embodiment" (your word) in this project. I don't feel like I'm accessing YOUR heart, YOUR body, YOUR struggle. I want to know what it's like to be YOU. Not you pre 46... you NOW. I feel as though images of your scooter are a constant barrier, tertiary to the real meat and potatoes, camouflage.

As far as I know, you are the only one in our group who can tell THIS story -- you're truly an INSIDER. What is it really like?

Anna B."

When I sat with her words I realized several things:

1) my scooter and I are one. We cannot be separated. She is my legs, my feet, my everything. Without her I would not be who I am nor would I be doing what I do. So when I photograph my scooter it is as much of a self portrait as if I were photographing myself.

2) Anna's right. I'm not sharing my deepest feelings in this series, at least as I originally posted it. So what DOES it feel like to exist in a world where you cannot walk, where you're always at risk of falling, where your hands can do few of the tasks expected of them. For me it means I see the world as a dangerous place, not in terms of threats from other people, but as a place where I can never be sure of myself, never count on my safety, never really relax. When I write that it surprises me, yet I know it's true. The image I've posted here reflects that reality. It speaks of my anxiety about transferring safely from my bed into the seat of my scooter. It was that transfer that landed me on the floor at 3 a.m. a couple weeks back and necessitated my calling 911 for help getting up. I want that scooter seat to look just this large and welcoming in real life.

3) But the truth is I'm at a loss as to how to express what I really feel about living like this. That's why I've put off addressing it until now.

So how does all this sit with you? Does today's image look like a gimmick, a trick, a photoshop ploy? Or does something in it ring true? Please give me your honest opinions. As you can tell, I'm struggling here. I sure could use your help. So what do you think?