Friday, October 14, 2005

A smoke made with the fume of sighs


I remembered today that once, lying in bed, lights out, at the brink of falling asleep, I was watching the smoke coming out of some incense sticks next to me. The only beam of light coming from the next room was falling on the burning sticks. I could not take my eyes off the thin trail of aerial ash which was dancing lazily with the most hypnotic twists, spirals and circumvolutions.. Today I thought I'd recreate the moment and catch it on film.. SD card i mean. Alas!.. never try to make a miracle happen again.. besides the trivial fact that I feel I'm gonna faint from all the time spent breathing the smoke of chinese and indian spices from 1 foot away, I discovered that 1. baaaad lighting, 2. bad background, 3. not enough technical knowledge in the field will give a lame result and a whole lot of PS work to make a bad thing look .. vaguely acceptable. :-|

2 comments:

  1. Fumes of sighs have turned into streams of dreams. I like it a lot; this moment between consciousness and thoughtlessness when all around is silence and all light is but one glimmer.

    (This isn't a half failure, I'd say it's a 2/3 success)

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  2. The smell of flowers, the smell of grace
    If I could only find such a wonderful place
    The place not known before you die
    A paradise above the skies

    The smell of incense takes me high
    Way up high where eagles fly

    If I close me eyes I see it clear
    The visions are whispering in my ears
    The smell of pain, the smell of death
    The odour that is my last breath

    The smell of incense takes me high
    Way up high where eagles fly

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