A slightly different version of this photograph made a brief portfolio appearance during the year. Largely unremarked, but it was graced by zeuszen with this quite wonderful poem as a comment:
a thing of great beauty
We have clocks and telephones, and the bed is made.
We have walls and a window and shoes for the feet to fall into.
We have birthdays and lunch and wives who have husbands.
We have friends and automobiles and a pet.
We have spoons and three wishes we have.
We have nothing when we can think of something else.
We have something when we can think of nothing less.
We have something when we have it so bad
That we need not ask. We do not need to
Have to become what we are.
Having and caressing and holding a thing of great beauty.
We have what we love, what we do with any wonderful thing.
We have measure and words and a place to sleep.
We have what we hold which is a marvellous thing.
And we have this great yearning.
- zeuszen
Statistics
Place: 328 out of 429 Avg (all users): 5.2674 Avg (commenters): 7.5714 Avg (participants): 5.3013 Avg (non-participants): 5.0968 Views since voting: 1007 Views during voting: 304 Votes: 187 Comments: 17 Favorites: 4 (view)
this photo reminded me this masterpiece
the boy has grown... and lost his smile. For me, it is actually the opposite of the horizon.. the wall. He is being slowly squeezed out of the frame.
I'm going through the entries, stopping at those images I feel have had the benefit of an unconventional eye and dwelling a little longer to try to see and appreciate what you saw. This is one of those images.
Positives: Toning aside, there is something nostalgic about this image. I also like how unfettered it is while remaining crafted and purposeful. Strangely the image isn't without menace - like a representation of a visitation.
Critical stuff: Not much at all.
Overall: I really like this - despite its composition it feels uncommonly well balanced.
I think I've seen this. But no matter -- I'm happy to see it again. It's a story about to take place. Or one in progress, but the action has been stopped and we get a glimpse into what's really happening. Poetry in slow motion. Or no motion. Excellent.
I was driving by, sitting on the bus, looking out the window in a distracted manner, when my eye caught something. I don't remember what it was but it felt like it was significant.