I really appreciate photography. Seeing a picture of Times Square in 1946 is the coolest thing ever when you think about it. Every cloud, every shadow is frozen in time the way it was then, never to look like that again except in the memory of an inked on image. Long-forgotten stars of Old Hollywood and ads for products that have come and gone from fashion plaster the walls just as ads for the new Acura 2014 and Jennifer Lawrence’s weird face do now. It makes  you think, really. These things were big deals back then, back at that very second. They were talked about. What’ll happen 70 years from now? Will J-Law and Honda Civics be relics of a time forgotten, only available to our great-grandchildren through 2-D images that really, when it comes down to it, mean nothing to them? And the people. The little blurs on the street, and the ones you can’t see riding in buses or driving the cars congesting the road. The photo will capture a moment of their lives- there. Right then. These people were alive. They were sad, happy, rushing, sight-seeing… they were in the midst of their lives, now buried six feet under or aged beyond recognition from the mere back of the head. But there they are, living in the moment forever. Photos are so much more than pictures on paper. They are windows into details, times, lives- long forgotten now. It was as if we stole it from Time. No, we said. You can’t take this moment. It is now ours, belonging to all humans, for all eternity. They are intimate seconds, so short that the people and things in the photo probably didn’t even notice them ebb away. We are the thieves of time, and the cameras are our lock-picks.

I didn’t really pay attention to any of the other pictures, sorry.