surajcdry
EAP1
When I see this photograph, I find myself feeling enclosed and a little haunted, wanting to say that this is the kind of place where someone might lose track of time—or of themselves, remembering how quiet this part of the library was, how the chair almost seemed to wait for someone with too much on their mind, having the reaction that even beauty can feel unnerving when you're alone with it too long, wanting to ask who last sat in that chair and what thoughts they carried.
When I explore this photograph, I think its message for me is about the thin line between solitude and madness. It makes me think about Poe’s narrators—isolated, obsessed, seeking meaning where others might not. My response to it is a strange mix of comfort and unease, and I think this is probably because I can imagine both peace and unraveling happening in a space like this.
If I were to title this photo, I would call it The Chair at the End of the Story.
If this photo were to be able to teach me a lesson, it would be that quiet places can be just as loud as crowded ones—depending on what you bring into them.
If I could give this photo as a gift to someone, I would give it to a fellow overthinker, because of how it reflects the space where thoughts multiply in the silence.
EAP1
When I see this photograph, I find myself feeling enclosed and a little haunted, wanting to say that this is the kind of place where someone might lose track of time—or of themselves, remembering how quiet this part of the library was, how the chair almost seemed to wait for someone with too much on their mind, having the reaction that even beauty can feel unnerving when you're alone with it too long, wanting to ask who last sat in that chair and what thoughts they carried.
When I explore this photograph, I think its message for me is about the thin line between solitude and madness. It makes me think about Poe’s narrators—isolated, obsessed, seeking meaning where others might not. My response to it is a strange mix of comfort and unease, and I think this is probably because I can imagine both peace and unraveling happening in a space like this.
If I were to title this photo, I would call it The Chair at the End of the Story.
If this photo were to be able to teach me a lesson, it would be that quiet places can be just as loud as crowded ones—depending on what you bring into them.
If I could give this photo as a gift to someone, I would give it to a fellow overthinker, because of how it reflects the space where thoughts multiply in the silence.