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“One day, without noise or commotion, the hole appeared. Her older brother found it out in the dry plains surrounding the farm. He ran back to the house yelling at the top of his lungs that he found a hole that went straight to the other side of the Earth, but father didn't give much attention to it. Dinner was made and chores were done, but her brother wouldn't stop ranting about the hole. She went to bed but sleep never took her. Even her own dreams couldn't match the wonder of this mysterious hole.
The next day, she journeyed out to the hole with her brother and her father. As they approached, they all cautiously took up positions around its circumference. For a long while, they all just stared in silence and the black void beneath them. As if breaking a spell, her father suddenly backed away and grabbed a nearby stone. With a nod of approval and flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the crater. Leaning in unison, all three strained their ears for the clatter of the stone hitting the bottom but never had the satisfaction. The stone seemed to still be falling when her father ushered them towards home.
All night she again stayed awake as if the hole had a gravity of its own, drawing her thoughts and her soul towards it. When the morning sun cast enough light on the dusty prairie for her to remember the path back to the hole, she slipped out of her room and took off running. The relief she felt upon finding it was greater than anything she had felt before. She anxiously paced around it, her pounding heart a drum beating a rhythm of encouragement. She placed her toes on the very edge and took a deep breath, only to see her brother ten feet away, staring with terror. "Don't be afraid," she smiled, "they said I'll be fine."
With that, she jumped. For a brief moment she did not fall; instead she hovered just above the opening, her form seeming to oscillate and flicker ever faster before finally being inhaled by the blackness of the pit. Her brother screamed and dove forwards, his outstretched hands only grasping the cracked soil where a moment before the hole had been.” -M.D. Walter
au cimétière du Morne-à-l'Eau - Gwada 2016
See the complete set here
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A very clever conceptual piece, this Prada store is never open but does display genuine Prada gear. It's more on the way to Marfa on Rte. 90 South, not actually in Marfa, Texas.
“As she neared her new plot of land, she passed a grimy and weathered old man on the road. He was audibly mumbling and talking to himself, hands gesturing every couple of seconds. Upon seeing her, he barked loudly about a cursed farmstead, insisting she turn around. Independent and strong her entire life, she brushed off his ramblings and traveled the final mile to her new home.
She worked hard with her son, sowing seeds and tending to the livestock. When the time came to harvest, nearly half the crops were ruined with plague. Beneath the rotting fruits and vegetables were pitch black feathers, hundreds of them in all, littering the fields and fluttering with the wind. In the barn, several pigs were also dead, their bodies surrounded by the same jet black feathers. Concerned but not broken, they used what they could and tried to persevere.
Weeks later while cooking breakfast, she heard her son begin to cough uncontrollably. She rushed to his bedroom to find his mouth and throat full of feathers wet from his saliva and bile. She frantically tried to pull them out but there was no end, as if in his stomach was an entire crow. He fell to the ground after a final jerk, lifeless and still. She wailed with misery and exasperation, collapsing onto him and clutching him tightly. She may have stayed there for hours had she not smelled something burning in the kitchen. It did not smell like food, however; the smell was much more like burning hair. She stumbled to the oven and opened it in horror, finding not ham but only the same black feathers, charred and smoking in front of her.” -M.D.Walter
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It was a beautiful and windy day when I went out to shoot these pictures. I had no ideas in my mind so I had to improvise. I sat alone staring out the ocean just thinking. Thinking about what I could do next, trying to get inspired. Then I realized that instead of grasping after the inspiration, I let the inspiration grasp after me. It felt like I was in control, it feels like I am learning; and it feels great. This day I learned that it's better to just stand up and try instead of getting lost in the thoughts of what to do next. This day I learned that with quantity comes quality. This image is a part of a series of two pictures.
"'Let me think: Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, who in the world am I?''"
Lewis Carroll: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
Chapter 2
In The Beginning...
Every woman who has been pregnant still carries cells from her fetus within her bloodstream. Cells from the pregnancy will reside within the mother’s bloodstream and organs for the rest of her life. Even if the pregnancy was terminated or if there was a miscarriage these said genes would remain with the Mother. There is a name for this so-called condition, it is called microchimerism , which is named after the Greek chimera, a mythical, monstrous fire-breathing animal that is composed of the parts of three animals : a lion, a snake and a goat.
Seascapes with Atmosphere | Sines 2023
Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.
William Shakespeare
I miss conceptual photography. I miss your feedback. I miss photography of feelings. I miss self-portraits.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Fits with the piece "Landing. Exorcism" from a few years ago which you can see here: www.flickr.com/photos/119031734@N04/49943837126/in/datepo.... More of my images mimic a subject facing away from window light these days. Selfie. Chose the dress because the texture resembled the wall. Sharps captured in-camera with ye old practical effects. Fan on the floor blowing directly upward. Detail on IG: www.instagram.com/p/CzNFRXxraVC/?img_index=1
Would make a perfect Two of Swords tarot card, but unlike other metaphors and mythology, metaphysical woo has the pesky habit of being taken literally. Pseudoscience kills a perfectly good aesthetic.
Strobist info: small flash in white beauty dish CR at high angle, single flash CL for fill aimed at the ceiling through a small diffuser. Radio trigger.
Hmmmm... Someone asked me to shoot rubber ducks and I did but wanted it to be part of my pointed collection. This is it.