The street photographer sees a tear in the eyes of a woman that is left alone in a world of empty benches. Attends the eternal happiness of a child that plays; His finger on the shutter is true like his will, while witnessing the man -that beast of habits - submerged on its wide fan of rituals. He must be silent and invisible, so that the magic unfolds untouched, authentic, and pure. When other people see their work they will say: There was laughter here, there was joy, or suffering, but more importantly, here was mankind watching over itself like an old and attentive god that, by doing this, comes to finally understand its own nature.
And thus, the street photographer trims or paints stamps of mankind and, by doing it, ends up reflecting his own self too. Then he poses the question: What are we made of, if not moments and spaces? What do we live for, if not expressing our continuous and endless spirit like a river that spills over as we walk through the street, unaware of it, left to be picked up by the loving work of the photographer who will make it eternal? What greater angel exists, if not the one who hidden and unaccounted, bears witness to instants of life that nobody else will see, holding them on a viewfinder with the respect and value that we give to those who we believe immortal?










I much appreciated your photos in deed
and enjoyed having look of course!
i ll keep an eye
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AB OVO AD INFINITUM
My Website: [link]
Gear reviews/blog: [link]
dA gallery: [link]
my Flickr: [link]
--
Please spay or neuter your pets!
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Please spay or neuter your pets!
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katarzyna-zawada.com
~Edhelamarth -> My second account
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katarzyna-zawada.com
~Edhelamarth -> My second account
i'll be watching you!
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