Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Sound before the fury, coming closer and blue ice

Preparing  the sound in the forecourt of Somerset House. Tom Odell seems to be melancholy (to judge only and probably unfairly  by a single visit to YouTube where he performs a sad air with a guitar), He is a young singer/song writer with floppy blond hair. Reminds me of a medieval minstrel calling  for unattainable love. The gig will be over by the time you read this. None of us will know what we missed. Unless you were there?

A bridge camera with a 50 X optical zoom moving up from macro on the same lens and with remarkable stabilisation features  (hand held is fine) appeals to me as a means of fixing objects and creatures near and  distant and providing a record of passing inspiration, fleeting images, stolen moments.

A pair of frozen  blue eyes, irises swollen by the lenses, stare from behind a pair of spectacles on the nose of a red-faced old man at a bus stop. He is probably not looking at me but the eyes seem to have me in  focus. I am not generally embarrassed or scared, but as I walk by the impression leaves me momentarily uneasy.


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