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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460844" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0412 Their World</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's a sepia photograph, taken, I'm guessing, <br>1900,1910? The whole of it is taken up by<br>a crowd on the move, passing the photographer, <br>who could be, say, clinging to a lamp-post, or on a balcony.<br>Going to? Leaving? Impossible to tell.<br>Who's rich? Who's poor? No clue.<br>What's it got to tell you about - life? <br>Why go on looking at it? No reason</div><div style="margin:10px 0">except that you're human; they were human; and<br>today, you wish, with increasing intensity, <br>to connect. In some way. Somewhere at the back of<br>uncomfortable mind, maybe, lurks the thought that one fine day, <br>you'll be that anonymous one in that anonymous crowd, <br>forever recorded - dead on the page; <br>by the irony of history, photographed <br>when you were sure that you were alive forever...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There's one chap in the crowd looking at the camera; <br>as the artist, in some Renaissance adoration, and<br>slightly aloof from the crowd's concern, <br>looks out of history at you the spectator - as if to say<br>I'm there; I'm here; and what of you? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he's no artist; he's looking boldly at the camera, <br>a cigarette between his lips at 45 degrees from the vertical -<br>a cheeky angle you never see today; the equivalent, I guess, <br>of the V-sign at the camera, as some meaningless, cocky, lively, <br>spontaneous act of defiance -at what? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now you can 't put the photo down.<br>It's like picking at a scab or<br>a joyless masturbation. It threatens - you threaten -<br>your sense of security; whatever that might be.<br>Every one of that crowd lived a valid life.<br>You'd like to be one of them - or would you? <br>Why aren't you filled with a joyous sense <br>of identity and compassion? <br>A selfish greed, perhaps, to know more than you ever can? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maybe, one day, you'll pick up that photo once again<br>and greet them like old friends.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460844" data-title="0412 Their World de Michael Shepherd" data-description="It's a sepia photograph, taken, I'm guessing, 
1900,1910? The whole of it is taken up by
a crowd on the move, passing the photographer, 
who could be, say, clinging to a lamp-post, or on a balcony.
Going to? Leaving? Impossible to tell.
Who's rich..."></div>
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