Archive for September, 2015


When I take a photo of a red fire truck, process and share that photo, generally I want people to look at their screen and see the same truck that I pointed my lens at. Sometimes I go overboard with the post-processing but usually I take the challenge onto myself to show, if not the exact picture, at least the perceived picture of what took place that day.

This chain has a lot of weak links. Not only am I only human, but everything else is only what it is. Light is captured by the sensor, calculated by the internal processor, saved on a less-than-perfect medium in a less-than-perfect format. I downgrade that file further to make it smaller and easy to share, after I’ve changed a number of things about it. If I put it up on Facebook, the colors are simplified even more and the resolution butchered.

But none of that frustrates me more than the conversion to the sRGB color scheme.




My mother passed away when I was 10 and it all went downhill from there. I often wonder what she might think of me if this whole thing turned out to be a hoax and she is still alive, meeting me in my doorway after 20 years to ask how I’m doing. All things considered, how would she react when hearing what I’m up to these days?

I would describe my teenage years loosely as “a shitstorm”. 2 boarding schools, 4 schools, dozens of teachers, over 100 classmates all came and went. I went from one loveless place to another and while there was always my own home, I strongly felt like the people there had given up on me and sent me away into someone else’s care as an act of desperation.

It doesn’t need much illustration to explain how this would shape a growing person. Even 2 decades later, I am still a cynical bastard who feels more at ease when the world is on fire, than at a breakfast table with a family. I readily blame my youth for many of my issues while at the same time, trying to outgrow the habits I picked up there- such as blaming circumstances for my failures.



I live by the train station these days. The busiest intersection in the province, with passenger trains during the day, but more importantly, freight trains at night. And my room faces the tracks, every possible train going east (the mainland) to west (the sea) or vice versa passes under my window. A window that I like to leave open at night.

I’ve woken up thinking there was an earthquake, or the next world war had finally arrived. When I looked out my window, I looked over a sleeping city- and no less than 4 freight trains, mocking Newtonian physics with their sheer length, having a little dance. I don’t know who the fuck designed those undercarriages but I’m beginning to think noise was not a concern in his industrial little mind.