Father in Heaven, what time did I start in here? I've finished enlarging a variety of prints for the collage assignment. My fingers are wrinkly from dipping into the chemicals so often. It's a different state of mind after every hour past the third one. The crazy thing is... I only printed about twelve or so shots from the two rolls (only) I took of my typewriter. Looking at the handful of prints hanging, I regret not taking just one more roll of shots to get even more angles and distances.
At one point, the song had ended and I heard a faint beeping noise. It sounded like a phone that has an unread text message waiting. The pipes never sound like that, so I grabbed my cell and keys and walked outside where the beeping turned into the fire alarm for the campus center. If the song hadn't ended, I would not have heard it. If there were an actual fire, I would be toast...
Relating this to Lynda a few minutes after coming back in, I told her that "it wouldn't be a bad way to go... burned among the photos that I spent six hours to print, about $30 for paper, and about four more hours to shoot and develop the negatives. Also, this tiny, secret darkroom would be dedicated in my memory for sure.
I had two lattes and a bottle of water. I'm starting to feel a bit woozy. I've got miles to go, still, before I sleep. Tomorrow will be more difficult, tomorrow will make me a man.
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