timmyquest
27th of July 2004 (Tue), 23:10
Ever since i got more serious into photography i look at almost everything as a photograph. In my little head i think about what a nice scene "that" is or what nice lighting "that" is. I will even go so far as to consider the position of the sun and the effects that would have on a photo.
If i have my camera with me i'll snap a shot, more often then not i didnt take everything into consideration and the photo becomes archived somewhere on my computer, dated, titled, left alone, and generally forgotten until the end of the month when i go through all and chose the best photos to display on my website.
There are times when even if i did have a camera though, it would not matter.
It was a long slow, and hot night in the kitchen at work but the night was almost over. I still had two hours left but Antonio was free to go. However the train tracks that cut the corner of the square that my restaurant is located on was occupied. And there i sat, with Antonio, he lay back on a ledge and i rested my arms on the bars of the one open door of two. With the cool wind blowing in our face, the mixture of yellow sodium lights, and purple florescent lights shining on our eggplant colored work shirts we sat quietly while this mammoth beast of a train passed by in the night. And as i sat there, i noted the color of my skin, the color of his skin, the color of his shirt, the color of my shirt. Here we were after a hard nights work on a small 200 year old square in small town america...bonded by the cool night that brings our day to an end. And all i could think to myself was "damn, this would make one hell of a photograph" alas...no one was there to take it.
If i have my camera with me i'll snap a shot, more often then not i didnt take everything into consideration and the photo becomes archived somewhere on my computer, dated, titled, left alone, and generally forgotten until the end of the month when i go through all and chose the best photos to display on my website.
There are times when even if i did have a camera though, it would not matter.
It was a long slow, and hot night in the kitchen at work but the night was almost over. I still had two hours left but Antonio was free to go. However the train tracks that cut the corner of the square that my restaurant is located on was occupied. And there i sat, with Antonio, he lay back on a ledge and i rested my arms on the bars of the one open door of two. With the cool wind blowing in our face, the mixture of yellow sodium lights, and purple florescent lights shining on our eggplant colored work shirts we sat quietly while this mammoth beast of a train passed by in the night. And as i sat there, i noted the color of my skin, the color of his skin, the color of his shirt, the color of my shirt. Here we were after a hard nights work on a small 200 year old square in small town america...bonded by the cool night that brings our day to an end. And all i could think to myself was "damn, this would make one hell of a photograph" alas...no one was there to take it.