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  • I photograph flowers.

    My latest assignment
    in a no hard-news environment.

    A frame every 25 minutes
    to discover the miracle of movement
    and satisfaction
    at the time of projection.

    For a change, I have the time to do it.
    And even time to meditate about the abysmal distance in time
    between each and every frame.

    I experience an ephemeral sense of accomplishment and detect all the inner mechanisms
    that feed anxiety, boredom and expectation,
    like a tiny inner clockwork movement
    that always clicked
    that I never liked.


    One more frame.

    At projection speed I will need 23 more to make a second.




    Not even half way there, yet.

    Meantime, the clouds move fast in the sky, it rains, it stops, it rains again and the rest of the world runs as fast as possible in pursue of everything else.


    This self-imposed punishment is bound to teach me something,
    something I don’t even know how to describe,
    something I could never learn before.

    To click, to wait, to think, to stay.
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