The sun behind cloud.The lazy and indeterminate sound of music drifts through open door of a pub. The sun beats down. I sip a cold glass of lager. Summer.
In The Grove a group of people, young and old sprawl on the grass in a circle. The remains of a picnic are scattered about them. Part of the circle is a black spaniel, sitting its legs stretched before it, its head up and alert, on the look out. From a distance it looks like a pool of blackness.
2 comments:
Lucy often has to wrestle photographically with the phenomenon you mention in the last sentence; showing textural relief on Mol's fur.
I have similar problems when taking photographs of the crows in The Grove, which are so black that detail is hard to find with the camera.
Post a Comment