I like my pictures to be blurry, I always have. Being sharp isn’t so bad, there’s a beauty to that at certain points, but a blur’s where it’s at. It leaves room for the memory of a thing. Photography is not, despite what some might say, a recording of a moment, it’s more like commentary, or a rhyme. I like it to exist next to the fond memory I have of a person, a place, a point in time. I’ve always held, at least in adulthood, that photography ought to color the moment you’re in; you’re taking the time to appreciate the beauty of somewhen, that’s going to change it and you, both. The worst thing photography can do is distract you from the moment at hand, rather than enhance it. 

I’ve not taken photographs with purpose in some time, a few months, at least. I’ve let the purposefulness of the photography on this blog slide, and as I approach a year of doing it, maybe I ought to redouble my commitment to taking a fresh image each day.

Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.