<- Click hereSo I wondered whether instead of asking if an image was pretty... well whether instead it should make us consider how we might best live our life.
Uh-huh, that's a another reasonable test of art, don't you think?
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There were two gorgeous young women, probably college age, standing against a fence. Each had such a wonderfully warm smile in the golden fall sun. And each wore a pink badge with simple text that read.... "It's A girl." And after he speech the crowd sighed into her. They were gentle yet demanding. They wanted to congratulate, to thank, to weep, to laugh. They wanted autographs and they wanted her to smile at them.
Now they are supporting Sarah. They each hope to see a woman in the White House. It is much their dream as Obama's promise resonates with my African American friends. One of those women said, "She's so bright Ted. She's raised five kids, been on television, been a mayor, now she's a governor. She's tangled hard with her own party and she's negotiated with the toughest oil companies in the world. And yet the supporters of Obama claim none of this is important. Everything we've dreamed to be able to do, she's done. And they dismiss all of it, even though their guy's done none of it. He's never met a payroll, never done a budget, never run anything. They're treating her... like... like... a girl. Well, she's more than that, so are we. And... and... have you seen her smile. It doesn't hurt," the woman said to me with a strong look on her face.... "Doesn't hurt that she's beautiful. Right?"
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And here's my erratic convention... The virgin image posted directly from the FlashCard. Comments?
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It wasn't clear how best to show The Eveready Diner. Above I teased out a romantic pano but then there's a grittier way, this one taken at 1600 ISO to make the noise explode along with the blare and glare of the morning sun careening around inside of my lens to zap up the contrast. Dunno which evokes the essence of this place. Above I feel the 1940s-50s floating into view, and here the place is clad in a harsher light of the moment. Where's the truth lie? Perhaps somewhere between stark and warm? You call it, K?
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