of photographs
Have recently found it in myself, an immense attraction t photographs taken in black and white. There is something far deeper than its superficial contrast of the two extreme tones and occasional shades of grey. I am hardly much of a photographer, but a definitive photography appreciate; i could stare at a picture in the morning trying t figure what the photographer was trying t portray when he took the shot, only t be conscious t the fact that the sky has already turned a crimson red. However i find, it is most unlikely for me t ever explore that area of expertise- i doubt i have the patience nor the time for something so.. i dont know.
and t find beauty in destruction- a sin?
new york new york;
they say the stars are a little brighter, the moon's a little rounder, and even the fish and chips are a tad larger in proportion, there.
but this is why i like it there.
the crescent moon, the starless sky, but more importantly, the imperfection of it all;
for perfection gives no room for improvement
and plenty for conceit.
Labels: america, irony, photographs
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