Poetry of the Eye
8/9/18
There is a poetic quality to the human eye, that camera photographs sometimes cannot recreate.

This is not due to the characteristics of the image captured — the technology our hands have created, long surpassed what our ocular faculties are capable of.
The poetry comes from the phenomenon of nothing the eye captures, ever being being experienced in isolation : there are always sensations linked to it. Emotion — the twinge of nostalgia or the tug of love; Touch — the feel of the breeze whipping past your body; Sound — the chirp of a bird, superimposed on the low drone of human activity.

Second hand experience can never be the real thing; And if human effort does, for some reason, push the limits up to the point where the virtual is indistinguishable from reality, I still believe they will be unequal. In as much, at least, as there is the implicit knowledge within the subject that the two experiences are different.
The viscerality. The suddenness of an actual experience:

A city unfolding to life;
A landscape bursting into activity;
A serene stillness;
A blaze of colour;
A hard, complete darkness.

These things imprint themselves into our consciousness. They inform our life of it’s meaning. They are what I have been waiting 18 years to be able to explore. They are what it means to be truly alive.