My friend sent me this photo earlier today. It was taken near her office as she left work. Some readers may give the scene a passing glance, note the photo is blurry and move on. To me, this photograph is as alive as the scene it reflects. I recognize the blue-grey light of the sky. I inhale the crisp dusk air. I smell the City’s autumn, nature mingling with concrete. I feel the fluidity of motion on the streets as people make their way to the train, the bus, the bar, the show, or the restaurant. I know the electricity of millions of people making their way, whatever way that may be. What a photo.
Last week’s Photo of the Week caused some readers to question why I didn’t provide a caption, explain the scene, or give its location. I posted the photo because the colors popped, the scene–and scenery–were unique, and because it tickled my fancy. I hoped something about the photo would speak directly to the reader: the colors, the clouds, the stream, the smell of freshly cut grass, the solitude, the scope of the task at hand.
This week’s photo, requires some sort of introduction–and a caption–for two reasons: (1) I didn’t take it; and, (2) it is ambiguous. This photograph is courtesy of my Husband who saw this scene as he traveled earlier this week. Although well-traveled, I have never witnessed an erupting volcano. No, it’s not speculation. It made the news.