The purpose of taking pictures, as one ages, the motives altered with the passing of time, translated…
Perhaps, it’s, a sort of infiltration. All the cities I’d passed by, the photos all had that peaceful, murmuring way, slowly, returned back to my many emotional states, and the me in the frames, was like parallels in time, telling the tales, as, if being a passenger of the night, and how that bridge expanded across the rainbow, how this tree had, offered me refuge from the rain………the files of the memories I have of the city, were, assembled, and reassembled repeatedly, it’d become more sensitive, more delicate in a way.
And, I’d recalled how those years of me, being fanatical over photography, and, although it was with the simple film and camera that’s disposable, back then, I’d always felt, that my angle was, precious and unique in some ways. I’d ridden my mo-ped across the many places, cramped, vacant, and everything else in-between………my feelings, my thoughts were, never easily satisfied, the whole city became a magic show, filled with a ton of imaginations; and I attempted, to balance the shadows and the light, maintain that balance of angles.
“Are those footages still there?”, the calls from photography was, pulling myself back into the realities of my own memories bit by bit, through the images, I’d, redefined and reexperienced everything I’d walked through in the city, seeking out that cherished moment in time in my life. Infiltration. A photo is composed of the photographer, and the subjects, and, life needed to be in-synch with the cities face-to-face. “I had owned this scene once.”, thus, photography became, this dual-stream way of communication, like how the consciousness lightly, bit by bit, seeped in, into the hearts of the city, like how the clock ticks and tocks by………
The movements of taking photos is like a miniature of life: experiencing, understanding, and the attempts of owning, perhaps, everybody is searching, for a way, we’re, certain, of keeping the memories intact. And still, we have, NO feel of how the coming and going of every moment, and so, we’d, maintained, that alertness, as if, we’re, about, to bump into something.
keeping these moments steady so they’d last forever! Not my photo…
Later on, I’d continued this method of photographing in every city I arrived in, day after day, and later, not enough of us, became the photographers we’d, wished ourselves to turn into, and yet, we’d still, at random times, clicked our shutters, that don’t match each other’s, things had altered themselves now, and now, I’m not, seeking anything by taking pictures, but, it’s, a sense of concern that I’d carried, toward the passing of time, subconsciously.
So, this, is why this man started taking pictures, at the beginning, it was, to keep things as they were, to hold on to the memories, that he had made, perhaps, and, as he got older, he’d realized, that he can’t, keep these moments of random intact, and so, he’d, switched his mindset in taking his photos, he now just, wanted to, watch the world go by, and documenting the world, as it passes by with his camera lenses.