Chilly November

It’s a chilly November evening, 2010.

I loaded an old leicaflex slr with a new roll of film, threw another log on the fire, and headed out to make pictures.

I flicked the porch lights on on my way out.  I left a picture set-up on the porch earlier that afternoon, and positioned my tripod to make it.  I couldn’t do it.  The picture wasn’t there.

I felt discouraged, and thought it best to pack my equipment and head back in to keep warm by the wood stove.

I decided to walk up and down the alley, just to be sure, to see if there were any pictures I was missing.

I stumbled upon something, just an impulse really.  I spent the next hour abstracting trees in the darkness.  My exposures were many minutes (I just guessed, really), and I jumped up and down and blew into my hands to keep warm all the while.  I realized, however, as I watched the cars zooming by me, that during each exposure, time passed and left its imprint.  The moment was nothing singular.

Decisive again.

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