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Bubbles of Melancholy - De File
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
cbertsch
cbertsch
Bubbles of Melancholy
I took Skylar to the last birthday party of many for her 2003-2004 pre-school class. Oliver, the youngest of the group, turns five on the 29th. But his parents pushed up the celebration, which was great for all the parents dealing with separation anxiety. The Bean was very tired today. Because the party was right around the corner at J.W. Tumbles, though, she had enough stamina to enjoy the whole thing.

Several parents thanked me for the CD of class-related photos I burned them. And I made some small talk, despite the fact that I still feel decidedly uncomfortable around parents qua parents. I mean, I know I am one technically, but I don't feel like I fully belong to their world. I spent most of my time behind the camera thankfully:

Recording the simple pleasures of everyday life in images is a lot like trying to catch bubbles on your tongue. More often than not, you miss the ones you really want to capture. And even when you hit your target, the beauty leaves something bitter in your mouth. You remember why it's there. You're glad you didn't miss. But your pleasure is never as pure as it would have been in the heat of the moment. The sad part is that you only felt that heat reflected through the viewfinder that protected you from yourself.

Mode: debating
Muse: Heart - Doug Martsch

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