Matter exists, but has no intrinsic meaning of its own, such as the meanings that we attach to it. An odd thing, image-shooting: now becomes then even while it is still now. It seems you don't really believe you're there since you extracted yourself objectively and subjectively from that moment. Even after choosing to ignore the hidden pattern behind it, you still nick the proof, or something you mistake for it.
I feel like being armed with a secret weapon, hunting down those internalized exhilarations which totally belong to my own. Now I prefer to believe, coating with personal shades should always be the first unavoidable step for my photos to encounter before they are fed into the universal connotation carrier.
