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Entry no.: 386

13 Dec 2007, 1:34 AM

Tags: , ,

Comments: 8

Life Spring

I thought she won't survive until spring, Cristian -Kit- Paul, Bucharest, 2007.

Today I took a walk that later became a long walk. This woman was right around the corner, collapsed on the sidewalk, absently combing and combing her white hair. It was cold, 4°C if I remember well, and I thought that asphalt must be god-awful cold.

And I thought she won't survive until spring.


Reply no.: 1

13 Dec 2007, 4:04 AM


The amplitude of your reflection is utterly frightening.

Reply no.: 2

13 Dec 2007, 9:37 AM


Deeply distressing—my hands were shaking so bad I could barely frame the shot. I felt though that capturing and remembering this moment was somehow more important than my shameful intrusion.

And the white line, like a sword of Damocles.

Reply no.: 3

14 Dec 2007, 12:48 AM


I've always asked myself what's it like being a real foto journalist, one of those that take photos about life in the vecinity of death, in the middle of pain. Always wondered how the photographer copes with his emotions while observing through the viewfinder war crimes, gruesome accidents, starving refugees...

Always wondered how much is too much, too much to be able to press the shutter release, to frame the subject as you would frame a sunny day in the park, too much to be able to look through the viewfinder and see your subject's pain and still think that the rule of thirds is the best way to compose the shot..

I guess each has to find this on his own. Maybe one way of showing sympathy is to imortalize that moment, those emotions, so they will not be forgotten just after the fleeting moment.

The combed hair almost hides the pain. When all hope is gone, things like wearing a little lipstick, combing your hair, feeding the birds, petting a stray dog, sharing a dry loaf of bread can bring a little joy into a world of sorrow.

Great photo.

Reply no.: 4

14 Dec 2007, 9:36 AM


She must've been a beautiful, elegant woman before decaying. Maybe that was her most valuable possession, one that she could not accept losing.

So she combed her hair time and again.

Reply no.: 5

14 Dec 2007, 4:32 PM


This entry is so Douglas Coupland-ish.
Unfortunately most of the poetry lies in sad things these days.

Reply no.: 6

14 Dec 2007, 7:32 PM


e_ _ _ _ _ _ _ l m _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ n

Reply no.: 7

14 Dec 2007, 11:01 PM


Stefan, your theory on nowadays real-life poetry might be an axiom—it looks true but I cannot demonstrate it.

Bogdan, you shattered my crosswords solving confidence.

Reply no.: 8

31 Jan 2008, 10:32 PM


Did you do anything to help her after you took the photo?

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