wander project one instant…


I would for a moment bask in the joy that was. Every photograph captures the instant the shutter is depressed. Not depressed in the sense that a mechanical or digital connection to an aperture is, forlornly waiting tone used, and therefore depressed. Rather than the moment is wound around the instant that the photographer decides must be captured. I have in my life so far had many moments. Before me, my parents had many moments. In looking back at the many years we’ve been on this planet, the 154000 moments doesn’t seem as much.  There are 3600 seconds that pass with each hour on the clock;  from 2 pm to 3 pm on a Thursday or from 1 pm to 2 pm on a Tuesday its 3600 seconds.

There are 86400 seconds in a day. We can argue that number it is larger. A day isn’t truly 24 hours. It is fractionally longer. We, throughout our journey, add a day to the calendar every four years. That extra day balances the impurity of 24 hours in a day. Imagine today as you wander in and out of 86000 seconds that represents a day. We are prisoners only for the fleeting passage o time that is a second. Or perhaps we are prisoners of an hour. Or a day.  The effect is the passage of time. The effect is perhaps boredom, sitting where we sit to wait. There are, in the time an adjusted year because the numbers are too small every day but in 365 days, we gain ¼ of one day.

31,557,600 seconds in a year. Based on that the 5000 pictures of snow I have, or the many more pictures of water I have, are a small set of moments. The rotational variance adjusted 31 million seconds that have passed since this time last year are represented by 12000 pictures. Give or take, certainly more pictures on vacation than when we are simply living life. Pictures of moments that now gone, evoke memories. But a small fraction of time is captured. Each picture representing something the photographer felt needed to be stored. In those moments I find the magic of wonder. Why this picture? I wish I felt that only when looking upon the picture of my father or my grandfather but those feelings come with pictures I’ve taken as well.

What was I thinking in an instant captured forever?

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