Here's a shot I took this morning while the machine behind me automatically deducted ones and zeros from a bank account for petrol that wold get me to a place where I could earn more ones and zeros... that I can use to buy petrol.
There are a lot of ways to think about this picture; here are a few.
This is a picture of a gas station at sunrise.
This is a representation of a moment in time.
This is a picture of America.
This is a picture of the past; the perspective of a single human being for a tiny instant.
Why is the sun setting so early in the morning?
Who uses a cell phone camera while pumping gas? Isn't that a huge static discharge, inconceivably
huge explosion and untimely death sort of thing to do?
This picture is worth exactly 1000 words.
Why is my normally much greater line of sight limited by this box all of a sudden?
Why do I get the feeling that the photographer wasn't wearing pants?
There is a poet inside everyone. The poet is either out, getting out, dying to get out, or just dying.
Just something to consider.
TSN
1 comment:
hahaha I love your insightful and funny points about the picture. Only you can write a blog that makes the reader think and laugh out loud at the same time
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