CatventuresSeptember 27, 2007 1:16 pm

winniethis will be the last of catventures. winnie, my cat, died today. i have never particularly been close to people or things. animals are my life. winnie and i were quite inseparable. slept in the same bed. ate the same food in the morning. it kind of bugs me that i wasn’t there when she died this morning. i went to the gym and the states for a quick visit only to come back to find that i missed her by 2 hours. i could have been there. she had heart problems and it was a heartattack i’m assuming is what she died from. i’ve never been so close to anything or anyone before until her. when my grandma died it wasn’t like this. i have to bury her later on today. its sad and i’m slightly in denial. its difficult to believe she’s really gone. i’m not really sure what i should do. i have nearly 200 pictures of her on my computer. should i delete them? sigh

My LifeSeptember 7, 2007 2:04 am

a photographer is a person who takes pictures. he is a human photocopier, capturing what he believes to be beautiful or intriguing. he snaps shots, hoping to imitate or duplicate the beauty seen with the naked eye. theres nothing like real life. at one point every photographer, even the best, learns that as much as one attempts to duplicate beauty no one can’t. instead one ends up recreating, and making something new. one shows a different perspective, a different angle. He is an artist, just like the painter or the sculpturer.

we see beauty everyday, the gorgeous lake, the pretty girl, the happy child. even with the best camera u cannot recreate these scenes the same way. you can’t capture beauty and stick it in a jar. you cannot analyze and duplicate it. its physically impossible.

No one can copy beauty. Women every day are botoxing, liposuctioning and reconstructing to duplicate this thing that we call beauty. we attempt to clone and one soon realizes that we will never fully. beauty belongs to God. we can copy and paste all we want but the pixels are different the resolution has changed and once again beauty remains infertile. it is sterile and we must treasure it.

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