Dark rooms, softer edges, soft light on walls, ticking of cuckoo clock, vague murmurs from the road. Is that all that i can feel?
The eyes of the camera sees more details. I miss the details as I am moving and so is my mind. The camera shows me a new story each time that I miss. Countless stories are being chanted, initiated, rendered, alive at 4:30 pm on a Sunday that I cannot see.
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