There was the memory, the reflection, and the absorption. All in one.
The rocks looked at me, and I saw my own breath feeding the life that lived in their small niches.
A disruption in time, a discrepancy between two worlds touching for an undefined period.
I thought I felt something moving.
Ghosts waiting for their mirror image to awaken.
Quiet now.
Wait.
The identity of objects
When I work on a still life photo I need an entrance. A way to get a feeling for the objects. Still life photography and painting is all about empathy. You can't make a good still life without...
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