Friday, September 12, 2008


The screen that explodes. The bubble that pops. The egg that bursts (i.e. the chicken that aborts). Blink and you miss everything.

But once equipped with the right tools, those moments of molecular chaos become an unashamed apology of the beauty of destruction.

What eludes our vision suddenly becomes a distorted moment out of time captured on high-speed cameras retina, an ephemeral pleasure blown out of proportion to last longer than it should. A short story cut long.

That persistence of memory usually comes with airy music, light piano touches and sweet violin strings to make you realize how delicate slowed down violence can be.

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