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Photography found meThere is something that happens between model and photographer,
There is a connection, a join, a bond, even if it's only momentarily.
If you don't get it, you won't get the shots.
The best shoots are when for a second, a minute, an hour, a day, I fall madly in love with a model.
It's a look, a laugh, a flirt, that is what brings out the best images.
The love doesn't last of course, it's fleeting, but none less passionate for that short time.
You can look into their soul, and them into yours, they open up and the emotions pour out.
A photographer looks differently at a woman, you look, she wants you to look, she wants you to see her,
All of her.
You look closer than any lover has, you see angles no-one ever has.
You look differently because you are trying to bring out something special.
It's a moving experience, after a good shoot, an amazing shoot, I go through many emotions.
Happiness, sadness, loss, it's complicated, it's not every shoot that leaves me like this.
MacHere’s who I am,
I’m older than you think I am, but rarely act it.
I love the stone temple pilots.
I have broken a couple of hearts and hate that fact.
I live in a house by myself, that is almost always filled with noise.
I walk to work most days.
I love my dog, and my mum.
I use a Mac Computer and won’t ever go back to Windows.
I am getting my life back together, but it always feels like that.
I do have a broken heart, and won’t look at another until it’s healed.
I love The Cult, and Train, and AC/DC.
My car is half the age of my house which is going on 100 years old.
I can’t imagine cutting my hair, even when it’s fully grey.
My camera is an extension of me, and often says things I can’t say.
So is my crappy writing, if you want to really know me, read it, because IT IS ME.
I can’t stand carpet, I have to have floorboards.
I have many fears, snakes, ending up alone, public speaking, social situations.
I can’t stand clutter,
That MomentI want that little moment of recognition,
The moment when you are talking, someone is listening, and you connect, you share the same thought.
You share a small smile, it's just for a second, but for that second, everything, everything makes sense.
UntitledI wish I had a home town,
Somewhere I grew up.
I wish I had childhood friends.
I want an unrequited love, someone I've maybe known for my whole life.
I want a pact with someone to be married to if we aren't by 40.
I want that crush, that crush that keeps you warm at night.
I want a young girl to look up to me like Marty did to Willie in 'Beautiful Girls'.
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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