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Nothing ever happens precisely as I try to imagine it does. And so, these events remain exclusive to the imagination part of the brain; not to any particular cortex more than another, but like a hope, permeating through the layers of grey matter and soft tissue, to occupy more than its share of mental capacities, and to become more real than any reality.
But the reality was simple: Simon was missing. He was supposed to return last Saturday. But he never did. Itís been 4 days now. Police found his car on the side of the road. The doors were locked. There was gas in the tank. There was a swamp near-by. But nothing so deep a man could drown. His wife didnít want to entertain the idea that maybe he was dead. Theyíre not looking for a body. Things would be different if he were dead. At least then there'd be no hope. But there was still hope, and therefore still fodder for the imagination.
- A summer in summary
Nikon D80 + 50mm f1.8. Window lighting in the background. Paper crane held up with string as shown here: [link]
. Ancient warmth action in post editing, download available: [link]
. Noise reduction plus gaussian noise for a dreamy soft-filter feel.