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Time is an abstract concept that falls into the pile of grey area. A concept that, for myself, I'll never quite fully understand.
The past maybe in the past, when it becomes you, when it becomes the earth, the fertilizer, the basis for who you are, it can't be dismissable, one can't just forget about it. The past, as a whole, and what ever incompasses the past, forms who we are as individuals, as people. It is the soil in which we grow, in which we change, in which we develop.
There is a scene in the movie "Beaches", where Hillary is just about ready to kick the bucket, and states to CC that she doesn't remember singing dradel songs in the loft. CC responds: "I know everything about you, and my memory is long, my memory is very very long".
Continuely, but not constantly, my mind will wonder, sparked by some type of impluse, to events, people, pieces of the past. More in recollection and self-discovery, than regret and hardship.
Memory can go whompy: take the Neurosurgery party for a prime example.
I have this photograph.
Became a Pro-member of the yahoo photo hosting site: flickr. Recently been going through photographs left to de pixil on the computer, end up in a scrapbook, shed to the wind in ashes. Whatever becomes of them. I find them so facinating.
Photography precuresed filmography, a technique which captures time, a moment, a period, a feeling, an emotion, a noun. The photograph acts as a constant mirror, of a time gone past, a single growth spurt, a season, in the life of a tree.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/70521233@N00/
The past maybe in the past, when it becomes you, when it becomes the earth, the fertilizer, the basis for who you are, it can't be dismissable, one can't just forget about it. The past, as a whole, and what ever incompasses the past, forms who we are as individuals, as people. It is the soil in which we grow, in which we change, in which we develop.
There is a scene in the movie "Beaches", where Hillary is just about ready to kick the bucket, and states to CC that she doesn't remember singing dradel songs in the loft. CC responds: "I know everything about you, and my memory is long, my memory is very very long".
Continuely, but not constantly, my mind will wonder, sparked by some type of impluse, to events, people, pieces of the past. More in recollection and self-discovery, than regret and hardship.
Memory can go whompy: take the Neurosurgery party for a prime example.
I have this photograph.
Became a Pro-member of the yahoo photo hosting site: flickr. Recently been going through photographs left to de pixil on the computer, end up in a scrapbook, shed to the wind in ashes. Whatever becomes of them. I find them so facinating.
Photography precuresed filmography, a technique which captures time, a moment, a period, a feeling, an emotion, a noun. The photograph acts as a constant mirror, of a time gone past, a single growth spurt, a season, in the life of a tree.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/70521233@N00/
