
As sparks flew past me, my children were upset at me for standing too close to the fireworks to take these photos. Sadly, I never did capture a shot that captured the sense of imminent immolation in the name of art, but this photo came closest.
Inside: Photos of eyeballs, bees, eyeballs, blue hands, and eyeballs. Also inside: Thoughts I want you to read and to live by and, when especially inspired, to set to opera. Also inside: my fight against vegetable tyranny. Just a little something I do so you don’t have to. You're welcome. Come on in and get your jibber jabber on!
2 comments:
Despite the lack of possibile fire, I really like the first one. The layering of Americana is terrific.
Now if you had gotten a picture of a mom in that first picture, you would have hit the Americana homerun.
That last pic does look like the firework is heading straight for you. You'll have to check out my firework pics.
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