deveraa

I'm honestly a photographer at heart. Maybe my pen can fall asleep on its page but the shutter never stays closed for long. The gift of language, maybe not words, but living, growing, evolving language is by nature evanescent and escapable. Celluloid can afix most anything to its plates, but writing can vanish in a flash or linger like dawdling children in a schoolyard. One thing words shall always be able to produce over photos, however, is the act of creation for any and all. While a photographer is the sole link to the individual experience of his craft, the writer alone is able to collect the weaving and meandering thoughts of an entire audience and allow each and every viewer to enhance and explore their own Northanger Abbey or seven-gabled house.