Ὁ βίος βραχύς,ἡ δὲ τέχνη μακρή,ὁ δὲ καιρὸς ὀξύς,ἡ δὲ πεῖρα σφαλερή,ἡ δὲ κρίσις χαλεπή.
I have no wish to take issue, with the finer thoughts and feelings of Deborah A. Ten Brink.
However.
There is a sense that our earthly endeavours, may serve to assist us in avoiding the void, the cold dark inevitability of eternity, that everyday here today, gone tomorrow feeling.
However.
Nothing lasts forever, except forever and nothing.
The cherished memories, condensed in a fraction of a second, rendered corporeal in photographic emulsion, carefully stored in family albums.
Are but a trick of light, a slight of hand, heart and mind.
Blink and they’re gone.
Blink again and you’re gone.
Here they were.
Here they are.
True art, photos of photos that look like paintings now that were once emulating painting. Art reflecting reality, truth is stranger than fiction.
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