As he walked along the tiled path, beads of sweat kept forming on his forehead. Some trickled down his face and dripped on to the ground. He looked up to see the inky blue sky. Buildings that were at a middle-distance were obscured by a greyish-white haze. The evening light was dim, but enough to see just a little more than the silhouettes of these houses.
I readily admit that I have a yearning to just write, to write something all the time. But I also have a filter in my head. It prevents me from turning my thoughts into words on the screen. It does this because of the self-doubt that we all have within us.
What if the words we put out there are not adequate?
Photography is a science. Photography is an art from. It is the recording of light or other electromagnetic radiation. It is putting a thousand words into one frame. It is really complicated. It is fairly simple.
Art is, but, human expression. I hope you agree with me on this definition as this is the basis for all comments that follow.