Somtething in me wonders if there will be new things to photograph. Hasn’t everything been seen/done/shot? It
turns out that this is not the case. Life laps up in an eternal rising tide. It is abundance itself. The
images fly past me faster than I can even think of recording them: the cellar door at dusk, the curve of your wrist on
your lap, the light bending around the petals of the plumeria. My fear of running out is where photography teaches me
about the wonder and fullness of everything, now, all of it, in this 1/60th of a second of the closed shutter.