The existential terrier


It’s only when I look at the photos in the folder on my desktop (the “Holding pen”) that themes emerge. This week the theme has been “Jambo pondering stuff”.

I have to say that “Jambo pondering XXXX” makes a picture more interesting. Take, for example, this┬ádumped piece of electronic equipment:


It’s intriguing. I ask myself: “How did it get there? What is it off? Why was it dumped?” But a thing with Jambo pondering it is somehow more … ┬áJambo-ish. What is going on in that tiny, peanut-sized brain of his?


This toy metal horse. “How?” he wonders. “Why? Is it old? An antique? Where’s the knight or cowboy that belongs to it? Is someone looking for it? Was it lost by children playing in the creek fifty years ago and only now dislodged and washed downstream?” These are the questions Jambo asks himself.


“This packet of My Dog: it is empty? Why? Who got there before me? Why does that dog on the packet look like me, but whiter? Why are all dogs whiter than me, even black dogs? Do I need a bath? Am I alone in the universe? Is it dinnertime yet?”


So many questions. Poor Jambo.