As photographers, time is all we have. It’s our canvas, the base upon which we apply light.
But we don’t control it. Sometimes it’s a lumbering thing, and the moments between seconds stretch out like a slowing heartbeat.
Sometimes it’s running, and the hours melt away beneath its feet like water.
We don’t own time. We borrow it, but we can’t stop it.
Reblogged this on Musings from the cold and commented:
I like my husband’s photography and writing so much that I want to share it with you.
I also like it very much which is why I mentioned him (and you) in my recent post.
I like the “lumbering thing” and the hours melting away – and of course the photos, especially the first one.