If all of our assumptions were true regarding their kind and what their existence stands for, it stands to reason that they'd all discard their signs, utter one last prayer, close their eyes and step out into moving traffic to put an end to the suffering once and for all. Something tells me we've got it all wrong. Something tells me there are those we regard as much more privileged that are suffering much more than they.
My $5 dollars will not save Pops, nor will it restore his faith in mankind. Not likely anyhow. The money means more to me than it does to him is my guess. Not necessarily in its intrinsic value, but the implied weight that is lifted when I hand it to him. My guess is that finances, of any sum, burden the homeless more than we imagine. Sure, they are begging for that money, but that seems to make my case stronger.
I suppose that the disposable camera, if returned, could very well contain captured moments of misery. Imprisoned within each snapshot will be pain, suffering and despair.
If I never get that camera back, which is a reasonable expectation, I imagine that the images contained within will be suffering's antithesis. Only a man that has been through Hell and back can truly know the brilliant promise of Heaven. I imagine the photographs Pops takes will exhibit the potential of that promise if nothing else. When there is nothing else, perhaps hope is what you cling to the most.
Is it possible to photograph hope?
Or maybe the pictures will be of homeless people's butts and penises. Also a reasonable expectation, all things considered.
Today's Jazz Hands hope for the former, not the latter. Tonight's Jazz Hands are going to go and enjoy a cold pint. Or two...etc...
Day one-hundred and sixty-six complete.
My $5 dollars will not save Pops, nor will it restore his faith in mankind. Not likely anyhow. The money means more to me than it does to him is my guess. Not necessarily in its intrinsic value, but the implied weight that is lifted when I hand it to him. My guess is that finances, of any sum, burden the homeless more than we imagine. Sure, they are begging for that money, but that seems to make my case stronger.
I suppose that the disposable camera, if returned, could very well contain captured moments of misery. Imprisoned within each snapshot will be pain, suffering and despair.
If I never get that camera back, which is a reasonable expectation, I imagine that the images contained within will be suffering's antithesis. Only a man that has been through Hell and back can truly know the brilliant promise of Heaven. I imagine the photographs Pops takes will exhibit the potential of that promise if nothing else. When there is nothing else, perhaps hope is what you cling to the most.
Is it possible to photograph hope?
Or maybe the pictures will be of homeless people's butts and penises. Also a reasonable expectation, all things considered.
Today's Jazz Hands hope for the former, not the latter. Tonight's Jazz Hands are going to go and enjoy a cold pint. Or two...etc...
Day one-hundred and sixty-six complete.
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