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Sometimes sunlight can lever behind and snigger under things to ignite them. You can imagine on a perfectly still summer day: the outdoor light puffing up the curtains like a breeze: Teasing them out like the skirts on a tiny curtsy-girl. This kind of glow is more painterly than photographic. It's wonderful when light's caught like glimmering golden foam under a curtain's veil. Momentarily you're aware of life's orderly details - and how its parts balance.
With all of reality's significant meaning to be photographed, I wonder why sentimental moments like this seem at least as important. Any guesses?