Tag Archives: photography

Poetic Moments.

Emolabs

So, I recently discovered the Instagram account “Emolabs” and it was such a serendipitous find. I wouldn’t normally spotlight something as inane as a random social media account but I think the vision of this one is worth it. The poet/photographer behind the ‘gram is a guy named Tony Ciampa and his photos are not only beautiful, but also incredibly vulnerable and, at times, quirky. When he’s not posting carefully crafted outdoor dinner tables, often equipped with sparklers and an attractive woman, he’s posting raw, handwritten poems juxtaposed with scenic backgrounds.

It’s a relatable, heart-wrenching, and artistic addition to my feed and I think it will be to yours too. Here are some of my favorites:

blehhh

 

 

This Is What It Feels Like

David V DartelIt’s been quite a bit of time since I last wrote on this thing, huh. What’s strange is that it is not for lack of things to say because, let’s be frank, anyone who has ever met me knows I’m never without words. If I’m being totally truthful, I can’t say I’ve been too busy – because I could’ve found time to write here and there. I will say, however, that I don’t think I wanted to hear or read what I would have written in those stolen moments.

Upon graduating nearly three months ago, my day-to-day has taken a complete one-eighty. Gone are the days when I trekked to and from Grand Central, the pages and pages of notes procured in dozens of lecture halls have been trashed, and the hard-earned, yet still imaginary, paystubs of interning have been bid adieu. Now, my Monday through Friday consists of working nine-to-six at a desk. My weekends are suddenly free game, my paychecks are suddenly gargantuan in comparison to what they once were (yet they seem to disappear just as quickly…), and if I stay awake past eleven pm, it’s considered a “late night.” What’s more is that my days feel like the crawl by but the weeks seem to race faster than light. I’ve blinked and my summer has all but disappeared, without so much as a good suntan to remember it by.

Is This Growing Old?

“When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. 
Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.”

You ever look at yourself in the mirror and have one of those really introspective movie-esque moments? You know the ones I mean, where time stops and you’re suddenly no longer looking at your reflection – you’re looking at what you’ve become. Quickly, you realize you’re either really pleased with who you are at the moment or you’re utterly disgusted at your unrecognizable self. Of course there are in-between layers; layers comprised of complacency, apathy, and mild repulsion but regardless of the feeling and where it lies on the scale, that moment of self-realization is always enlightening.

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