Bob Dylan told me long ago somewhere inside "You're a Big Girl Now" on the "Blood On The Tracks" album that "Time is a jetplane, it moves too fast". And yes, sometimes that's just what it does. Moves too fast with a feeling I'm only managing to jump on the train way too late.
The same well known poet also wrote a piece called "Time Passes Slowly"... saying something like time passes slowly up here in the mountains, we sit beside bridges and walk beside fountains. And everything inside the song feels like it's taking forever.
I was just thinking about this. How different we feel about such a well defined matter time actually is. I mean even Bob Dylan obviously have had different experiences with the subject of time.
Right now it's "Time Passes Slowly", for me anyway, being at work but not being 100% well at the same time. Having to go to work to do a lot, and all you can manage to think of during the day is sneaking away and go to bed, totally unnoticed.
I was never sick enough to forget the daily snap, though. I even think it might be a fine one for once. Nothing like a masterpiece, maybe, but fine for sure.
I looked even further, seeing a few frames I might try to capture in the days to come. See we're still stuck in Nigg, Scotland, and there seems to be a few frames shouting for me in the area.
I guess I'll spoil them anyway, but they might be worth a try.
I went through a few new (to me anyway) photo blogs the last few days. Nothing like this one, of course, but still a few of them were quite good I have to say.
I just started writing on another camera review, believe it or not. I don't know if I will ever finish it, just because I don't think I will ever write something useful to anyone wanting to know my kind of stuff about cameras anyway. You see you have to find the right words, and you have to use some time to get them words right. Besides, why should I write reviews worth nothing when there's a bunch of great people writing everything worth to know about them anyway?
Just have a look at this thing from Jim over the big ocean and quite a bit inland, in Indeapolis, USA. I know, it's dangerous reading because the GAS thing coming sneaking into your brains and all.
It's OK, though. I can't help myself from looking either.
A good thing is that I think I might have landed on what I got and seem to be quite happy anyway. I don't need any more cameras as I seem to have what I need, and probably a few more in addition.
One of the last days at home I went inside my wifes office though, just to grab a cuppa and a little chat with Kjell (the head of the HSE dept.), an English Setter. A nice chap that one.
His office mate started talking about cameras though, because one of his old relatives used to own a few nice ones. That's all he knew, of course. I mean who on earth would be walking around remembering names and models and things like that anyway? Unless you're a bit more than average interested, of course.
At least he had decided that the cameras, if he could find them somewhere inside that big box containing stuff from that relative, would be handed over to me. If I could use them, that is.
I mean if they work I can definately use them, but if not they will be returned. If he can find them someday, of course.
It's a bit mixed feelings, actually, having cameras handed over this way. I don't know why, because if you look at it in a bit different perspective it's just like getting anything else handed over. I mean what's the difference anyway to someone that can't or will not use them, ever?
Well, first of all we have to see what the box contains.
If anything at all, for all we know.