The New Street Photographer's ManifestoFebruary 7, 2013/by techgnotic
Street photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson called it the “decisive moment”— the captured instant when all the photograph’s elements come together to tell a story in a way a text narrative of thousands of words could never begin to. It is what hooks people, both practitioners and advocate-devotees, on the art form. It is uniquely completely immersive in life— step out into the streets— in which the moment of artistic epiphany can never be guessed at until it suddenly happens. When it is properly mastered, it is as pure as the dawn of each new day, as true as the living organism of a teeming street scene catching a breath as one.
It's no easy task to pull a book together for publication and "The New Street Pho
Engineering EggshellsHe knew that "I love you" also means "I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you," and also, "I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you," and also, "I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else."Engineering Eggshells5 years ago in Scraps More Like This
--Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated
Kathrine had said "I love you" too soon, which terrified Ty because it wasn't supposed to be done like this. It was either the seventh or eighth time they'd been out together and she just came out with it as they folded their laundry side-by-side. It was either desperate or careless, resigned or meaningless, and it might have prompted Ty to leave her if he wasn't so certain felt the same way back. The moment she uttered it, he cascaded through responses: the welcoming blush, which was interrupted by the sharp discontent about this not being the right way, and then the awkward pause where he ha
ParaUnit 5: Case File 1 part 1ParaUnit 5: Case File 1 part 13 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Case File 1: ParaUnit 5
Silver droplets of rain pelted the ground as a howling wind brutally struck any unsuspecting victims it came across, the midnight weather becoming more and more destructive with each second that passed. Twenty year old Rhys Wiliams shielded his emerald eyes as he dashed through the unforgiving weather, nothing but the "tall man" on his mind. Warm blood trickled down his arm serving as a reminder of the horrors he had witnessed only a few minuets ago. His vision became blurred, the furious rain continuously pounding his tired being, making it more difficult to keep to the public foot-path as he dashed through the ancient forest.
Rhys skidded to a halt. His stalker stood motionless before him, blocking his path, it's non-existent gaze piercing Rhys's soul. Fear and adrenaline filled his being as the creatures tendrils burst from its back, flailing like unkept hose-pipes. Rhys wanted to run and hide, but he couldn't. It was if he had been glued to the spot by fear.
harmonizei'm built on broken bones and metronomesharmonize3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
her alto trills, his hollow tones
a second verse she'll never know
so sweet and sweet and down we go
the cords stretch and scratch but never match
the off beat tears he'll surely catch
the droplets lead a song of their own
recorded on heartstrings, a song i know
his words they ring and the hurt they bring
it's been so long but i choose to sing
and maybe he'll hear the music we make
( it's been so long but i choose to break. )