As nothing good happens in the morning, I usually try to make evenings worth. So ladies and gents, beware! I have a Lightroom and I’m not afraid to use it.. Since I wanted to post some Barcelona photos for half of year now, I guess NOW would make more sense than later today.
So here they are, few shots of one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen so far, Mercat de La Boqueria.
Luni a fost ziua in care cinismul a iesit la iveala si mintea mea a gandit si-a nutrit pana cand gura s-a gandit sa verbalizeze. Si multumesc fortelor supreme si vremii bune de afara ca nu a verbalizat chiar tot.
Pentru ca daca era asa as fi spus toate cele de mai jos:
Tu, draga prieten de pe Facebook, nu esti un fotograf profesionist, cu pozele alea suprasaturate si arse pe alocuri. Cei care iti dau like la poze se impart in doua categorii: ori habar nu au cu ce se mananca fotografia ori chiar isi doresc putina atentie si activitate pe facebook si mai arunca, la misto, cate un like. Ar fi frumos sa-ti scoti din denumirea profilului “Professional Photographer” ca nu pacalesti pe nimeni.
P.S. Nu mai exagera cu HDR-ul.
Tu, alt prieten de pe Facebook, pozele cu pisici sunt foarte dragute, stiu.. si eu as vrea sa le vada toata lumea dar ma abtin. Serios, fac diabet de la atata dragalasenie.
Dagi rasisti, extremisti si critici ai conditiei umane + celor care cred ca e naspa sa fii gay si sunt pro femeia incubator si anti-avort si celor care ar eutanasia in orice moment cainii.. go and kindly fuck yourself si nu-mi spuneti mie ca:
- O sa vezi si tu cand o sa ai copii!
- Tu nu ai trait printre tigani.
- Tiganii nu sunt oameni.
- E vina femeilor daca au ramas insarcinate.
- E vina femeilor daca sunt batute/maltratate/violate.
- Tu n-ai fost muscata.
- Nu am nimic cu gay-ii dar sa nu se pupe in public.
- Nu sunt rasist dar nu suport tiganii.
- Cunosc si eu un tigan de treaba.
- Am si eu un vecin tigan si e ok.
Dintr-o categorie speciala fac parte prietenii mei care impart vorbe de duh profunde pe facebook, gen.. iubirea te inalta, iti da aripi, te ador.. whatever.
But I like some of them, they’re are good people.. they suck at “marketing” themselves on FB, but I like them anywayz.
Cum se numeşte când ştii că faci un lucru greşit dar nu ştii exact să-i spui pe nume, nu ştii de unde a pornit dar anticipezi cam pe unde o să se ajungă şi totuşi nu te opreşti?
Inconştienţa nu mă coafează.
“Men see objects, women see the relationship between objects. Whether the objects need each other, love each other, match each other. It is an extra dimension of feeling we men are without and one that makes war abhorrent to all real women – and abusrd. I will tell you what war is. War is a psychosis caused by an inability to see relationships. Our relationship with our fellow-men. Our relationship with our economic and historical situation. And above all our relationship to nothingness. To death.”
― John Fowles, The Magus
I acquired expensive habits and affected manners. I got a third-class degree and a first-class illusion: that I was a poet. But nothing could have been less poetic that my seeing-through-all boredom with life in general and with making a living in particular. I was too green to know that all cynicism masks a failure to cope– an impotence, in short; and that to despise all effort is the greatest effort of all. But I did absorb a small dose of one permanently useful thing, Oxford’s greatest gift to civilized life: Socratic honesty. It showed me, very intermittently, that it is not enough to revolt against one’s past. One day I was outrageously bitter among some friends about the Army; back in my own rooms later it suddenly struck me that just because I said with impunity things that would have apoplexed my dead father, I was still no less under his influence. The truth was I was not a cynic by nature, only by revolt. I had got away from what I hated, but I hadn’t found where I loved, and so I pretended that there was nowhere to love. Handsomely equipped to fail, I went out into the world.
The Magus, John Fowles