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Toy Bricks 2011 Toy bricks that pile up to the sky; how high will they reach before toppling over. It is a tiresome job, but I pile tirelessly, motivated by some unfathomable urge to see it reach as high as it can go. Perhaps it can go on indefinitely, for how can something joined together with such engineered precision hope to fall apart? Not the forces of gravity, it defies it, by its perfect symmetry. Then again, I will have to be as tall as the stars, but perhaps that's not such a bad goal, for to have a glimpse of the stars through the efforts of the simplest of tasks would put all astronomers to shame. Headless Princess 2012 Headless, cut off and disfigured. That describes my little princess. It is less messy than one would think, and I delightfully place her lost head in between fork and spoon on a plate. I am not to eat it though, only perhaps to disgrace it. What couldn't I stand of her? I never knew, never got to ask. Can dolls talk? I have blurted out more than necessary, for this plastic disfigurement speaks more of my love than my hate. And that love is for the end of all dolls, muahahaha. Did I mention I hate dolls? Snail Chess 2010 A most disgusting game I have invented, you will never guess its name. It uses living pieces, sluggish and almost retard in their movements. They never get anywhere, so they have no real use. So slow their march, across the chess board, but without any merit of speed or haste, to an already slow game, they spread their filthy slime in streaking arcs across. Retard might not have been too harsh a description, but then who am I to judge for one who has invented this game? Snail Chess I call it, and there are no rules to their placement, no Queen or King, only the slimiest march across the board, with an offense unmatched in vileness or foulness. Chess Orange 2007 Chess Orange, a strange title that holds no apparent specification of what it seeks to describe. It is owed to the writer to clarify the variance between this and the previous picture, the conception of each individual inspiration. In this, the picture of a chess board is laid across an orange carpet, hence the composite of Chess and Orange in the title. It would have otherwise been misleading, and not entirely intuitive as to what the name tries to suggest. I for one had no idea what that hairy orange material was. Well, now you know. If we were to follow up from the previous picture, one would think it is a chess game made out of orange chess pieces, but the truth could not be more simple than that, simply because that would be a ridiculous idea. If there ever were chess pieces made of orange, it wouldn't last very long as deliciously shaped bite-sized pieces of orange. Yummy! Crane Boat 2011 Is this not the wisest invention, I call it the crane boat. It is a boat that works in tandem with a crane, for a purpose yet expressed, but perhaps for undersea construction? Anyway, it is a worthy invention, for who wouldn't want to build structures over water? Well, given the population rise, land might soon become a scarcity. It is better to think wise and into the far-off, plans of concrete to make with a wondrous mechanic called a crane boat. Who am I kidding, it is just a crane on a boat! Bass Speaker What a useless photo. All I see is the word bass that must be from a speaker. But why does it make me go boom, boom, boom, with magnetic allure? The booming bass fills me, just by the glance of those words, and I Dance Techno and Electro, to the electric waves of the booming speaker. Then again, it is a picture, the simplest picture I have ever viewed, that I can say against in denial that all pictures speak a thousand words; this one only speaks one. Projector Light The light of a projector, I have taken to combatting light with light, the prismatic light of my camera as it goes flash. It shines forth and penetrates the light of the projector, I wonder what visional effect it will have. The flash goes off, and the photo comes out, and I see no distortion, no great upheavel of the combat of physics, only the steady white light of a projector that illuminates back at me with no affectation. I have failed. Light doesn't fight light, they aren't even physical objects. They can't possibly touch, but they sure can piss me off. Projector Fan I now capture the back of the projector with my flash. This backstab should settle it. I won't be outsmarted by a mere projector. I will capture its rear and end its dignity. I see a fan, I click the camera, and flash! it goes, and the picture I capture shows a perfect view of a fan, with light emitting from the spaces between its vanes. The projector hasn't had its last say! Damn it. But I can't help be cooled by the winds of the fan, and for a time I am placated. Until next time projector! Delete Key Another simple picture that only speaks one word, a word I have no real taste for, for who would like the negative? The only real purpose of the word is expressed in its own need to cease. Delete! Delete! And be gone! It is a function necessary regardless, I can't imagine a keyboard without it. Oh wait, we have the backspace for that! That said, you can't activate task manager without ctrl+alt+del, so I suppose even negativity has its place. Mistakes, the great shame of perfection, has to be covered, even if slyly, behind the computer screen. No one must see the numerous typos I make on a daily basis, even though I am a self-proclaimed writer! Old Millstone 1999 An old millstone in winter; they say a picture speaks a thousand words, I wonder how it is to be described? To condense the abstraction of a thousand words into one hundred, should not be too hard given the long history of an old millstone. First of, it is taken in 1999, but that doesn't mean it is that old. Then it wouldn't be very old, because 1999, is only like 14 years ago. Stones I know exist for millions. In fact the biggest stone, the Earth itself, has possibly to be billions. They never die, they never age, they are timeless. The only time when they change is when a person comes along and carve and hew it into a different form. In this case, it is a millstone. And surprise, I have said more about the millstone than in one hundred words with just a mere glance at the picture. All I needed was the title. Old Wagon 1999 Another picture labelled old...it can't be that old since it is taken in 1999. Oh yes, you can't estimate the life of something from the date it is taken, we covered that earlier. But then what life does an old wagon have? First of all, it is not even living, and being old is near close to death. It was possibly a wrong usage of words, but crack my lazy brain as much as I can, I can only tease you by saying I am too lazy to change it. It might be better this way, for it gives me something to say. That said, I really have no idea what to say of an old wagon. It is old, and it is a wagon. You cannot tell more history than that, perhaps it was used by the Amish, perhaps it goes all the way back to the first settlers, but I can never say that, or I will be accused of historical inaccuracy, which is a worse crime than plagiarism. Don't plagiarise my work. Lake 2003 Old Scan FX Ah, now this is something to talk about. A lake, natural scenery has always inspired me. What cynical, bitter and sarcastic things can I say about a lake? How about a change of style, into the mysterious we go! How deep a lake does it need to be before it is considered not a pond? Within murky depths, the freshwater holds unfathomable secrets, invisible until the next lucky catch of a patient fisherman. Then we see if we have caught ourselves anything more than a fish, perhaps even a prehistoric monster like Nessie? That would be the mystery of mysteries solved, but then it will no longer be a mystery! What a conundrum! And what a way to end with a twist, I made it cynical again! Lake Trash Church 2003 Now isn't this a sight for the eyes. Truly inspiring with its beauty, of the juxtaposition of trash with the scenic visions of a lake. Is it the contrast? It might be the form of the trash, which is in the designs of a part of a Christian Church. Perhaps the greatest mystery is how something like that could end up there. Are we to pollute our lakes now that the ocean gyres have reached full capacity? The trash of men will never end, and until we learn to burn all waste within a flame of cleansing purification, the world's water preserves will have to suffer. To see the taint of beauty is tragic indeed. Sunset Mountain 2011 Sunset mountain, a vision of the promised land, or is it THE promised land? The sun never rises in the West, only sets. There, within the calming hues of the evening sky, we see the rising destiny of the stars as they speak to us on the coming night. The mountains are the highest places of land on Earth...they almost allow us to reach into that setting sky, and seize the stars for ourselves. And with that comes destiny. This is truly a picture of a thousand words, as all scenes of nature are. Unfortunately, most people tend to take pictures of themselves and others. I only approve of that if they are girls. Direct Sunlight The clouds part, giving way to direct sunlight. It dances on the eyes, a soft, warm comfort for something so fierce and powerful. It is a comforting glare, capturing the effulgent Sun might seem not so much an impossibility, at least not physically. With technology, we might one day even harness the energies of the Sun through a Dyson's Sphere, the science fiction's writer's dream. Until then, capturing the light of the Sun with its own light is the only way we can hope to frame even an image of its entity. Moon Eclipse 2003 End The moon eclipse at its end during 2003...not many remember it. I don't. That's why the taking of this picture is good, but then again, it is a picture taken at the end of the eclipse, revealing the full moon. What good is a picture of an eclipse if it doesn't show even a hint of it? One can never guess it was a picture taken at a lunar eclipse, for the very fact is it isn't, it is taken after one. Thus we can only place all hopes in what the title suggests. For that we say, trust us. Walnuts and Pine Cone Seeds A creepier sight has never been seen than an arrangement of something as delectable as food in the hair-standing way it is presented in this picture. There is something creepy about it, it is something that I haven't found a word for, but it is like those certain set of patterns that just cause your hair to stand on end. Like a set of irregularly set British teeth, the hideously patterned arrangement causes reactions that defy conventionality. Mine is to close it as fast as possible and turn away from any possible contemplation of it, but as they say, the more you try to deny something in your mind, the more it occurs with frequency in it. Thought-suppression; remember it never works. Scrambled Eggs in Pepper 2012 Umm, finally food that looks good, as it is supposed to. Aided by the fact that I am roaring hungry right now from the expense of intellectual energy in conversing so many caption descriptions, I wonder what wouldn't tempt me to just chow down on my screen and hope through quantum anomaly, my desire for some delicious scrambled eggs in pepper (not that I have ever tried one), would be miraculously materialised. The fact that I have never tried one only further increases the curiosity, and it burns, almost as I imagine that pepper to scorch my palate. Palatable indeed. Iced Coffee Frappe A cooling drink to end the day off; the irony is that it is a stimulant. The heart races as the caffeine pumps into the bloodstream, yet a certain stillness enters from the enriching taste of the frappe. It is assisted by the ice, it serves as a cooling agent that calms my nerves. I feel the foam at the top of the frappe, the texture as inviting as the sight before consumption. Just foaming at the top, it could not have been a sight in greater contrast to those walnuts and pine cone seeds. Umm, so soothing to taste, so creamy and fulfilling each gulp brings. I want some, I thought they say imaginative visualisation gets you what you want? Do I have to go to the store for that? Screw visualisation, the quantum dynamic fails once again. Lakeside 2003 Red FX Sarcasm should never be used for sights such as this. Then again, the creative mind will always find room for some, when needed and requested as by my client. I am a mere contractor at his will, and even though this is not my typical style, once again in assertion, the creative mind knows no reign. So where does sarcasm come in a lakeside view? I think I can say safely that water is never red, haha. Well, you wanted me to be cynical. The reflection of the setting Sun's glare upon the water's surface provides for such comtemplative silence, a calming soothe before the onset of night. But I have always preferred the sunrise. Stuffed Tomato Peppers 2012 Stuffed tomato peppers are just the stuffings to stuff yourself with. One can only fathom what they are stuffed with. I have no idea what are stuffed tomato peppers, so that's the limit of where my imagination ends, and even if I can fathom a guess, it could possibly be anything, or it might even be just a name. Is it an actual dish? Someone please inform me. Contact at calixtus.ashley@hotmail.com for freelance copywriting assignments done, thanks. Baklava 2012 Headline alert: shameless self-advertising done prohibitively in previous photo entry. It seems this past few photos are in a series of pictures of food. I have no idea what a Baklava is, and it seems the headline of this next article is: copywriter should do some research. Not for the food, which doesn't appear appetising to me, but the research would lead some ways into discovering where my client is from. It appears he is Turkish, which concurs with my estimations of his timezone from the limited information he gave me. I have one Turkish friend, and he is a very nice guy. Let's support such fine people with their distasteful food by the law of Causality, or as they say Karma, by rewarding merits with more visits to his blog! It will greatly aid in the idea that what you sow, so shall you reap. So get on with it already, I am such a nice guy, where are my copywriting assignments! Shameless self-advertising ceases not... Slightly Fried Vegetables 2013 Add some garlic, some chopped beef, and of course some slightly fried vegetables, and start the cooking, and you will have some Chinese. Blarghh...Chinese food, as Homer would say. I am at home with Chinese food, being from Singapore, and nothing says better than slightly fried vegetables. Preferably, they should be cooked just right, but it could mean they are in the process of cooking. Can't wait for it, just looking at it makes me water. Food is arriving soon in this household, and we will be having the usual chicken soup. Food Remains Sculpture Egg Quixote 2000 After a sumptuous feast, what better way to commemorate than a sculpture made from the food remains? The remains of the food are all gathered and pieced together into a sculpture I call Egg Quixote, modelled after Don Quixote de la Pancha himself, as he rides on his almost dead-old horse, in this case an egg shell, yet to be opened. Nearing death as we would like to think this egg shell is the same, just like its imaginary counterpart, one that can only be fathomed at, by the cracking and opening of its contents. Will it reveal a soupy mess, or a fully-boiled tasty treat? Anyway, it is to be taken as both tasteful and visual delight, and playing with food has gained new meaning with this entry. Sausage Spaghetti 2012 Ummhmm, the last entry in the food series, and what better way to end it off than with some spaghetti pasta. Sausage spaghetti, if you no prior idea of or conception, is when the spaghetti runs through sausage slices before being boiled. Children love it, I know I do. The creative and fun presentation of the sausage spaghetti is a worthy shot of note, given tastefulness runs through it from the cooking process, to the display, not to mention the taste. Something you will never know naturally of. Sausage slices staked through with sticks on a plate, before being transformed verily into an inviting sausage spaghetti pasta meal, which is done by stringing in the spaghetti strands into the sausages. No wonder it has been called a funny way of cooking pasta! Teddy Bears Clothespins 2000 Teddy bears hanging by their ears on a clothesline. Pegged to the line by clothespins, they are left to dry, but one wonders why. Did they get wet, left in the rain the day before? Perhaps the owners decided to give them a thorough wash from time to time, and this happens to be part of their schedule. A nice wash, almost like a bath, but unlike us humans, we don't get to hang by our ears on clothespins during the dry-out. One of the experiences we will never miss as humans, maybe because it sounds like torture. Rainbow in the Black Sky 2012 A mysterious sight greets me on the horizon, an arc of an iridescent bow upon the sky. Mother nature reveals once again her artful side in this multihued display, but I am filled with suspicion. Why such a sight on a sunny day? The sky is dark, it might speak of rain. It seems the advent of this sight is more an omen than something to appreciate for. For that I give no thanks, and I hurry in quick pace to the safety of cover. The colours of the rainbow might speak of a pot of leprechaun's gold at the end of its arc, but I see it instead for an altogether darker premonition, the onset of a stormy night of a black providence. Creek Snow 2000 A picture taken of a creek covered in a field of snow during winter. According to the dictionary's definition, a creek is a stream smaller than a river. Now that wouldn't be readily observable by looking at this picture. I see no such stream, unless it is to be taken as that completely frozen or snow-covered field. Concealed as such, the beauty is still apparent. There within the buried snow lies the creek, one can only imagine. The bare sketches of this creek can be seen outlined in barest detail in its edges against the snow. All in all, saying it is to be indeed named creek snow is not too far-off, given the thin stream running through the centre of the piece. One can only hope beyond all doubts that it is indeed what it seeks to say in the title. Once again, this pattern of misleading titles have us almost acceding to a request that you trust us. Ice Stalagmites 2002 Ice stalagmites frozen, suspended within the cold winter air, hanging from the branches of dead wood. Or at least what appears to be something like the branches of a tree, something hard to decipher or at least to conclude that it is a very unusual tree. Looking closely, it seems to be a huge tree branch fallen across a net of wires, and the ice has grown hanging down below from the dead branch. Or I could altogether be wrong. Hard to write a caption for something you don't understand; I feel this is a feat that should be recognised as impressive. To spin rubbish at a whim from an impossible to conceive source, is in its own way an intelligence. Car Wash 2001 The most cleverly taken photo among the lot if you ask me, one can see clear inspiration in this, for it depicts a surreal feel through communicating the situation of one watching his car being washed while within its safe confines, a sight made surreal by its timing, as when the big pretty-coloured brush causing an opague view through the glass window, with the view unclear by the water marks running down from the carwash. One can only glimpse at what made the photographer thought of significant enough to take the photo. One would think in the contemplative silence, as the great brushes of many colours of the carwash, washed the car's exterior window, one sees inquisitively out into the window where the cleansing water of the wash has made opaque the view out, and in all indulgences, as strange a place as it may be to see beauty here, perhaps a picture has been taken that speaks of many interpretations, and to me, it is to be a new view out from the cleansing of the window of a car, once besmirched with dirt, now mucked with water, and finally to be all dried out into the new. Creek Rocks 2005 The leafs of Fall lie fallen within the rocks of a creek, as clear water moves around them, submerged as they are or afloat upon the stream. Lifeless...it is like they have forfeited their will, no longer in anyway within a movement of their own volition, but made to bend to the elements about them, led this way and that, only not moving by insufficiency of force. They lie scattered, the Autumn of dead leaves, the life expended to preserve itself from the coming Winter. Yet even in this death, from which life left and gone, made lifeless, we see in its arrangement, something that provokes the awe of nature's beauty. The leaves, scattered beyond volition, yet lie within an arrangement, some grand golden ratio, of distance apart, of lifeless surrender, that speaks of itself the undying reality. Not one part ever leaves from the matrix of life, it is eternal, and ever self-sustaining. There is no true death...for if we are to perceive the force of beauty in the living, the sketch of nature in the rocks of this creek speaks either of the art of death within the frame of life, or of life itself imbued within the very fabric. I prefer the latter. Beach Wavy Sea 2013 Within the distance, the waves gather in ebb and tide, flowing in waves and gathering afar from the shore, as I watch on the beach. They appear as many surging arcs of folds of water, pulling forth in strength, and one wonders within the still picture, how far inland will it reach before it breaks in momentum. It is like the heartbeat of the seas, a controlled potential that only seeks to burst its elemental fury upon the banks. It would seem then, the heartbeat of the deep ocean presents its primacy in the form of the wavy sea, waves that gather from the tidal influence only to crash and return back from its reach into the beach. Seaside Unfocussed 2013 Even if a picture of the scenes of nature is taken without much focus or without any apparent direction towards its grandness, capturing a part of it that is miniscule and by all appearances insignificant, great beauty can still be inspired from a viewing of it. It is for one plain to see with enough curt observation that the picture of this is of the seaside. It speaks unfocussed, for it is without much aim, as if a purposeless capture of something that was drawn from random whim and fancy, rather than within any calculation of the photographer. And for that, it speaks its own purpose, and we can see clearly the sands of the beach next to this untamed sea, that we assume to be taken from the same seaside as the previous picture. The grains of sand awash within the ebb and flow of the waves of the untamed sea, culminating in a white foam that lingers at the top of the picture. Once again, almost as random as how this picture was taken, the foam in its natural, disordered state appeals with beauty the most within this picture. The beauty of nature finds itself hard to express in words. Seaside Ripple 2011 If it is not certain if it is adequate to call this a ripple, or within greater reason to see, a wave. I see no ripple, but the dash of water upon the rocks along the seaside. In this sense, the title is misleading, and it is thus owed to the caption to clear and clarify on such grounds. Thus being my responsibility, I within all observance of tastes, state firmly that this is no ripple; I would imagine a ripple as the waves of rippling water forth from perhaps a dead weight thrown into the pool, in which there is no such evident action here, but best put the dashing of water that might have been misunderstood as a ripple by the photographer, less acquainted with the English language. Having said this, I have to end it on an ironic tone, given the requests of the client, that this entire caption meanders and seems more a philosophical sophistry than an actual caption description. Wave Rocks 2011 Now this is a picture that speaks as it suggests. It is evidently a wave as it crashes over the rocks, upending its elemental fury in a great violent splash across its surface. It leads to its total release in the second picture in the series, and the entire display of power is subsided, subdued and quietened down. And the silence after leaves one in that same silence, one before in awe, the other after in suit...the stillness of wrath of something beyond our control, that leaves one in spellbound mercy, a mercy given over our appreciation of something so beautiful in its tempestuousness. The irony is that this appreciation quickly leaves once our lives are threatened at risk by it. Taps Plumber 2008 Inspiration ceases at this picture. I am baffled, what tale can I spin for something so trivial, mundane and without any apparent meaning? Perhaps the photographer thought it a good idea to photograph taps when he was in the shower. Maybe inspiration came when he learnt that they were all positioned a little out of order, in strange angles, and somehow, it looked acceptable enough for a photo. Inspiration never came more baffling than at a moment like this. This is where the creative impulse lies, its completely unpredictable and at times conveniently acceptable predilection. And this tendency presented before you, we say please accept it. Raindrop Papaya Leaf 2012 After the rain, the papaya leaf shimmers with droplets of water. The epidermal waxy layer of the top of the leaf, allows the raindrops to stay suspended upon its surface, with such steadiness that they do not fall off, or slide across the otherwise smooth surface and give us such an alluring view, a view of nature of an element with an organism of life. Yes, it is a sight of nature, but it is one of a rare capture of a papaya leaf after a rain, natural yet not within its normal state. We would expect a plain picture of a papaya leaf as it is without drops of water on it in that case. My point being made, it is a last desperate effort at being creative at trying to be inspirational, at least with the cynical twist my client wishes and seeks. In this entire collection of 47 photo selections, this is the very last photo caption description I am writing, and the one I am least pleased with. As it is with most efforts, even the most inspired, the momentum of inspiration slowly loses force with the graduation of the works. I hope this doesn't mess with your head for reading that it is the one written last, yet I conclude myself on the very last photo selection. So saying, the papaya leaf with the shimmers of raindrops glistening after the shower holds a particular striking on the senses. But not enough to make much inspiration from it. The end. Splash Swimming 2008 This picture's merit should be awarded to its visual effect. Timed precisely at the point where the spray of the splash of water is captured, in vertical effect defying gravity...this requires good timing, and a swift coordination with the eye and hands in order to frame this visual effect. The visual effect being the suspended splash of water in gratifying defiance of gravity, shows taste and a certain inspiration, of perhaps capturing motion in a moment in time. Now the rest of the problem to fill in with is a reason why there is the descriptive "Swimming" in the title...if it was a capture of a splash of someone diving into the water, the body must have been utterly swallowed up in the splash and removed from sight, covered up submerged within the water...personally I find it hard to believe, and now I suggest you accept something in a trend reversed from all previous entreaties; this title is a misnomer. Sunset 2004 Bulbs Sunset bulbs...almost as if likening the setting Sun itself to a great orange, glowing bulb. Burning across the horizon, it so happens to shine its orange rays over an ocean in which we can see in a distance an island; the rays pierce pass two light bulbs themselves, suspended hanging by a line. This unique juxtaposition as implied by its name, likening the sunset to a bulb, and actually showing two light bulbs...I would dare say the title is more inspired than the photo. Even, a picture of the setting Sun is always a pretty one, as it is with the theme of all of nature's scenes. I know some would tend to disagree though, and those are the ones who prefer photos of girls to everything else. I happen to like both. Blue Moon 2012 August I once cracked a joke about a blue moon. It might be a little too painful for most, but this seems to be the only opportune time to tell it, something wouldn't allowed in any other setting for the sake of saving myself from embarrassment. This way, in a request by the client for caption descriptions of his free photographs that are cynical, sarcastic, bitter, mysterious, ambiguous, and freaky, every single quality that are against my preference, and yet not within my versatility to accommodate, it seems the sole and only chance for a display of my humour at its most crude and lame. And here we go: How do you get things done once in a blue moon? Stay near the sea, so you can see the water's reflection of the moon. For water is blue. With that apart, I had to do this corny entry here, because I have no idea why the client titled this photo with the words Blue Moon. Sunset House It is as it is in my dream, the dream of my illusion, of inner realms touched and made emotive from the various physical, man-made and urban landscapes of the world about me. Strange as it may, I see art in these constructs of architecture, something which others draw from in sights of nature, or in the common case, with girls. That said, I do feel the author would draw in some hot traffic if he had pictures of girls, although I feel it would lay low the artistic flair of the website. Keeping to his tasteful, plain-simple-dull-poor-uninspirational photos, and these are his own words, the integrity of his work is left intact. We need more such uprightness in this world, instead of going to the scruples of the base display of flesh and sex, something I am highly in disagreement with. I have always preferred my pictures of women clothed, and especially when they are taken behind a backdrop of nature. This complement of human beauty with natural beauty is to me artful and lifts the grossness usually associated with the raunchy form of girls, and sublimes it as an integral identification of the human person within its natural environment. The setting glow of the Sun as it overcasts the silhouette of a house, is a mesmerising draw, the sky overcast with the hues of the sunset, leaving one the tinge of nostalgia, of a day of vital life gone by, shadowed and silhouetted the form and structure of a house entirely in the darkness as announced the onset of sunset. The house cast in darkness against that starkly coloured and brilliant sky, somehow it quietens the soul; what of it that invokes such striking notions within me? I feel drawn into it, into that sky of colours, the evening reminds me of the pain as I used to associate with of the passing day, the feeling of the slipping away of time, and with it the slow loss of the chance for doing within the extents of passion, as its stain but an indicator of the passing of life. I have no idea where to place the house in all of this, except somehow it is more romantic? I wish I could describe it, as I feel it, but I will quickly reframe the blame onto every other wannabe out there, "I don't think you can do the same". Open Door 2012 A most pointless picture of an open door, yet see the tale that spins from my fingers typing across this keyboard. The room of shadows as it peers out through from the open door into the light of the doorway beyond, it beckons, it is an entrance of a divide, a separation of distance that demarcates the space between light and darkness. It is like the journey of life's self-discovery I believe, in my interpretation of something that might not have been in the original conception of the photographer; what of the story of life, than to leave the darkness of our primordial origins and enter into the brilliance of self-realisation? That said, I might be saying more than the photographer intended with the photo, but it is a thought worth contemplating upon; I find it inspirational. Night Instanbul 2004 Night envelopes the sky of Istanbul. I feel the cool air, breathe it in, the surreal night manifesting as a tangible strain on my senses. Besides me, I am not alone; my love stands on this rooftop overlooking the city, and we converse a dialogue of the heart. The glittering stars of the nightscape of Istanbul, is not in the sky, but from the lights of the urban landscape. The midnight lights of the cityscape, shining luminous like sparks across a dark ocean, their artificial light veiling the stars own light as visible across this atmosphere. The starlight yields to the thousands, perhaps even millions of sources of artificial light across the urban landscape, from the lights of buildings to streetlamps. Which of our love is more akin to, this natural light of the stars that wavers before the inundation of this pollution of artificial lights? Natural preferred, seems to not last in substance against the artificial and fabricated. Which to what should our love evolve to? The real wonder if across this blanket of darkness, is if there is any presence of stars in the first place, or is this the incidence of light pollution? Light pollution is a major problem in big cities; it is time to save the stars! Lightning Instanbul 2004 That same scene of that view across the city, where the countless dots of artificial light outshone the starlight of the sky. This time, the sky is a bit lighter, perhaps it is evening, although the view seems still familiar. The contrast would be a light of another form, another source; lightning. Light in its most violent and furious form, one that shatters the sky with but a single bolt into an illumination that scatters even the potent light pollution of the artificial lights of the city. Three pictures of lightning across this dark sky, each one throwing the night into upheaval, blasting and shattering with the following thunder, the silence of the night, something that can only be derived from the vision of the ferocity of this display of elemental force witin the picture. A light from lightning so blinding it pierces the vision, and instead of granting sight, takes it away, it is a contrary force; everything in nature has its double-edge; one that can kill and both entrance. City Skyline Flyers The buildings of this city from Turkey, drapped all in shades, lay in haphazard positions in various angles of irregular aesthetics; the strong energy of the land can be drawn from a view of them. When I was younger and more carefree, it is sights like this that draws me into the feeling of romance; that was what carried the essence of my life during my early years. The real sight is in the skyline flyers as mentioned in the title. Great eagles of strong wings, they stay aloft on the updrafts of the cool evening air, gliding effortlessly across the skyline with such grace and ease; true kings of birds. They circle the half-moon, three of them, as if some glorious celebration of lunar rites. It is rare to even see a single bird of prey on its own, aloft on the rising winds in its predation of prey; here we have three of them. Perhaps they are a family. I had a dream once, where my father drove us to his old home in a village, and we set about climbing the mountain of mattresses at the site, within burning with some yearning desire to see the top of that mountain, of something hidden away from view except with exceptional efforts, that must be worth the price of the climb, a prize of something precious and unstolen; it was the sight of two eagles encircling the setting Sun. It was a beautiful dream, but even there was a pain, of wanting to reach something higher, and the fear of failing, of clutching a view of that beauty, here embodied in the dream as that entrancing sight of the two eagles and the sunset. It would seem the dreamscape, even within the private space of our personal dreams, there is an element of transparent pain of something transient, in which in the real world can at least be captured, a moment in time of an illusion in its own right and itself, the dream that is this beautiful illusion we call reality and life. There, the pain, slight, passes into remembrance, and only lingers as a moment of time that cannot be experienced again, but except and at least it is forever captured as a photo, one that can be viewed for future reference for the sake of invoking the memory of that experience, in however poor semblance. Moon Eclipse 2004 This time, the photographer makes a more legit attempt in capturing the rare sight of a lunar eclipse. We see the shadowing, partial, of the Moon, covered by the Earth's shadow being casted over by its direct position of interference right between the Sun and the Moon. The first picture, we see but the distant Moon in the far-off sky, within the background of the familiar buildings of that land. Then in the following picture, there is a close-up, the sight slowly focussing and drawing itself even closer to a full-up view of the Moon in its eclipsing phase, perhaps at a later stage. There, the sky has grown definitely darker, drawn into a curtain of dense night, something that was not apparent in the lighter sky of the first picture in this selection. By the way, the Philosopher's Stone is said to be made on a lunar eclipse, by pissing into a jar and keeping it warm at a specific and precise temperature range, and after allowing its fermentation for over a period of a year, the residual evaporation of the liquid forms a coloured powder on top of the hermetically sealed rounded jar, of which is that fabled Philosopher' Stone. Remember, use only your own piss and no others! Full Moon 2011.07 The full Moon captured in suspended splendour in four separate pictures, in three colours: the orange Moon in full, the gray Moon as it naturally comes, and a rare blue Moon, or perhaps just a lightened gray Moon; it is listed as purple by the client. I have seen an orange Moon once, when I did my National Service of my country in a naval base, right by the sea. We were on morning duty, and we were standing on attention, when out of a certain curious mischievousness, I took a look behind me at the Moon, and was it BIG. In fact, it was orange and enlarged, and its orange reflection was casted over the dark waters. It seems I was the only one who had a glimpse of it. I was the one to tell my partner who did our specific duties together, about it, but he was not to catch a glimpse of it as I have; the orange Moon had gone away in place of the rising sunrise, and that enchanting sight was only beholden only to my own eyes. And yes, it was a full Moon. It seems it is as rare as people like me, with the fancy for such proclivities, one that exists within a mind's attention to the wondrous and the imaginative. We call that rapture, and as I have used my joke on Blue Moon, I have nothing else to say, but conclude on a job well-done, of quite efforts not in proportion to the pay. We can always negotiate of course, if the client likes my work.