Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
First off, I hope you weren't unduly inconvenienced by the biannual event we call Daylight Savings Time. "Spring forward, Fall back". I've had an hour less time these past few days to think over the state of my existence, but it hasn't hampered my uncanny ability to second-guess myself in the least. Looking over the past few blog entries, I have come to the belated realization that my photos lack... substance. They're pretty enough, or artsy enough, I suppose. But as I was discussing with a friend earlier today, I want to take epic photos, ones that can change a person's views of the world- moments that capture the split second between sunset and sundown, and fill the space between ignorance and bliss. I believe the right picture at the right moment is worth much, much more than just a thousand words. A picture is a canvas, and the skilled photographer is the most masterful of artists, quantifying the radiant sun and the luminescent moon and casting them over his subject matter in broad, powerful strokes as well as in precise, meticulous detail. As a tiny pinprick of light hits the back of the lens of the camera (his brush, of course-or chisel, or pitch-pipe), a single moment is captured. And in that single moment, every word that is being spoken in every corner of the Earth is captured along with it.
A thousand words, you say?
A picture is a dream, a vision of what has taken place and what is yet to come. Man has lived with far less, and will continue to live with less until he is shown that there can be more, that there is more- to himself, his life, his very being- than what he is and has been settling for. A picture is a part of the soul of the picture-taker, and no amount of words could begin to express the meaning behind that.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
1:57 AM |
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