Amanda Mabel
Day 302/365 ~ I Take Photographs with Love, so I Try to Make Them Art Objects. But I Make Them for Myself First and Foremost - That is Important
March 4, 2012.
My new toy.
Living right in the middle of the city is different from being in the suburbs. Cars go by all the time, even in the dead of night, creating a continuous rumble that never seems to stop; manifesting into a sort of resonating headphones effect. The sky is vast, but skyscrapers and elevated bridges fight for their places among the drifting clouds. When it rains, the city turns into a sea of white fog and miserable drizzle that mist onto the glass windows. When it's sunny, hot sun streams in and burns the beige couches and flat carpets. No one stops in the city, even for a minute or two. Tourists wielding bulky cameras with the straps circled around their necks pause to take dead pictures, then move on. Businessmen stalk quickly through the crowds, plugged into earphones with their mobile phones clutched tightly in their hands. Students trip on in clacking shoes and overloaded bags, avoiding people nimbly. The smells of baking pies and roasted coffee, gutter water and fresh leather along with car exhaust congeal in the air. When night settles, the shadows in the alleys slink out and take their place among the working classes in silence. Glass bottles are smashed on the pavements, mingling with still burning cigarette butts. Police sirens let out their shrill scream as they tear through the dark streets. Lying on a bed in the middle of the night, listening to the sound of the city as it breathes.. Dark rooms and tiny windows, muffled voices and television static. This is what it is like.
youtube ll facebook ll if you want to ask anything
Day 302/365 ~ I Take Photographs with Love, so I Try to Make Them Art Objects. But I Make Them for Myself First and Foremost - That is Important
March 4, 2012.
My new toy.
Living right in the middle of the city is different from being in the suburbs. Cars go by all the time, even in the dead of night, creating a continuous rumble that never seems to stop; manifesting into a sort of resonating headphones effect. The sky is vast, but skyscrapers and elevated bridges fight for their places among the drifting clouds. When it rains, the city turns into a sea of white fog and miserable drizzle that mist onto the glass windows. When it's sunny, hot sun streams in and burns the beige couches and flat carpets. No one stops in the city, even for a minute or two. Tourists wielding bulky cameras with the straps circled around their necks pause to take dead pictures, then move on. Businessmen stalk quickly through the crowds, plugged into earphones with their mobile phones clutched tightly in their hands. Students trip on in clacking shoes and overloaded bags, avoiding people nimbly. The smells of baking pies and roasted coffee, gutter water and fresh leather along with car exhaust congeal in the air. When night settles, the shadows in the alleys slink out and take their place among the working classes in silence. Glass bottles are smashed on the pavements, mingling with still burning cigarette butts. Police sirens let out their shrill scream as they tear through the dark streets. Lying on a bed in the middle of the night, listening to the sound of the city as it breathes.. Dark rooms and tiny windows, muffled voices and television static. This is what it is like.
youtube ll facebook ll if you want to ask anything