Waiting for sunset

Thank You.

A very nice b/w-shot, Vladimir!

If we only knew whether it would be a long or short wait. His pensive gaze is wonderful. GJ

good bw.shot...congrats

buena toma, gran b/w y composición. Saludos

good composition and right b/w choice. compliments -koushik

A good place for him and...for you!

Hi Vladimir, a picture with meaning and lots of mood. Good black and white image and nice work. Best regards. Dara

As I responded in comments on your portfolio, vf.

The experimenting in my photos, my friend, needs all the descriptive commentary they can attract from skilled photographers like yourself. I see in your photos, vf, a deep focus on the meaning of the subject matter, and superb choice of angles (your particular skill) that you use to honor the subject. Focus on meaning of the subject is my vision too, reflected in whatever stylization my mind can conjure. I welcome your insights and your photos. Much thankx, d

Izvanredna prezentacija dostojanstva treceg doba sa odlicnom kompozicijom, efektnom kontrolom svetla i izuzetnim toniranjem. Svaka cast, Vladimire!

Placing him just at the right spot with his white hat away from the arriving darkness...

And then, his "image" will be gone...

A metaphorically loaded image.

I wish I could be looking at it with somebody else's eyes rather than my own!

The Cane              by deborah elaine barrie  2011©

 

He sat waiting

As the hours passed

He kept his hands

Folded

Resting on a cane

He had inherited

From his father

He did not  truly

Require one

He was strong

And sure of step

But it connected him

To a time

To memories

He would never

Relinquish

Willingly

He had planned on

Giving

The cane

To his only son

But he had been lost

To him

To them

Many years ago

The grandson

That his child

Withheld from him

Had sought him out

On his eighteenth

Birthday

And  now he waited

With hands folded

He waited patiently

Many hours

Before the appointed

Time

To savour this day

In the long hours

That would come

Soon enough

When he returned

To his tiny room

In his daughter`s house

And as the sun set

As the shadows danced

His grip tightened

On his father’s cane

On the cane he would

Offer joyfully

To this young man

Who lovingly

Willingly

Called him

Poppa