View allAll Photos Tagged DRIP
A minnow looks enviously at a drip of water that has broken free of the beak tip of a juvenile Tri-colored Heron on Horsepen Bayou.
I love watching drops as they gather along horizontal surfaces. Forming a tidy row, they start small and grow in size, plumping and stretching. The bigger they get, the better I can see the fantastical, upside-down version of my world inside each watery orb. Pulled by gravity, they tremble to hold on but eventually they fall and the cycle begins again.
Like a giant metronome of life, they measure the moments.
Drip, drop. Tick, tock.
Writing about human suffering runs many risks, and most of these risks have been the subject of to much commentary. But there is also the artifice of packaging something so it offends the senses, but not too much. Surely, this too is a marker of a lost innocence. I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be asked to write, or even reflect overmuch on what is described in these pages, because in Haiti, I am asked to do only one thing: be a doctor, to serve the destitute sick. And since none of my patients can pay for my services, it is my job, my great privilege, to draw attention to the suffering of the poor and to bring resources to bear on the problems that are remediable. Most are.
I contemplate my own loss of innocence with resentment, sometimes in even in tearful silence. From whom can I demand it back? As Garcia Lorca said, "Things that go away never return-everybody knows that."
Everybody knows that things that go away never return.
-Paul Farmer, Cange, Haiti, March 8, 2000, afterword to the Pathologies of Power
That's the 6/17/17 theme for Macro Mondays, and since I've made numerous attempts to try to perfect this olive-drop-into-the-martini shot, I decided this was a good excuse to give it another try. I got several great splashes, but that *&%**! olive rarely cooperated and insisted on turning its back to the camera, and without the red pimento showing, the shot was a failure, no matter how great the splash.
Actually, this time I got two shots I wanted to post to the MM group, but one's the limit, so I posted the other one in the first comment below. I'd appreciate knowing if you think I made the right choice...
This Rattlesnake master's (Eryngium yuccifolium) leaves have small inconsequential thorns that must act as a dew collector.
Samsung NX1 & LZOS Jupiter 9 - 85mm f/2
26mm Macro Tube | 15 Aperture Blades | f/4 | Manual Focus | Available Light | Handheld
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