If it’s not glass bricks, it’s mud puddles. Love ’em! It’s not a little boy nostalgia that draws me to puddles but their visual ambiguity: layers of depth and reflection. Add to that a paucity of context and things can appear really strange. So I post puddles now and then. (My favorite remains Puddle Wonderful from March of 2019.)
If I call this the 2020 mud puddle, it is not because puddles have been rare this year in Rogers Park. If this is the first and maybe the only puddle for 2020, it is only because I don’t often go out these days, what with the plague, and the bathtub puddles are nowhere near as photogenic.
An old toy re-discovered! While shredding old financials, I ran across an item I had forgotten, an optical filter of some kind. I think it was intended for stage lighting, but you can take photos through it as well. This photo is of another old favorite of mine, sunlight through glass bricks.
Here’s another photo of the same view with the same filter:
The title is, of course, another of the more over-worked lines from the original Star Trek, notable for its lack of expressed hierarchy (“Jim” instead of “Captain” or “Sir”) though one wonders if anyone wearing a red shirt would have been allowed such liberty by the script-writers, even back then. Democracy, apparently, only for the ruling class of officers?
And why that line for the title? Well, its prominence depending on the resolution used to view it, there is a face-like feature in the photo. Would life unlike anything we know have a face? Any road, I imagined “Bones” (another howler of a cliché) whipping out his tricorder to make sense of what he was seeing and whispering, with appropriate awe, these immortal words…