About Photography

It was a dark and stormy night

We tiptoed out of a benign digital dream

Leaving behind the old silver slipper

And the pixelated vision of a last supper

Now we hear this loud bang at tomorrow’s door

A harsh metallic voice that summons rather than calls

To surrender our hearts and minds to the scalpels of time

And leap into the artificial world of self-proclaimed intelligence

Relinquish aspirations and inspiration altogether

And let the chromium probe sink deep into our brains

Where the wild machine shall have an endless romp

In this heaven made in hell

A crowd with empty faces will gather

To throw artificial flowers on our shallow graves

The Oculus is a reworked antique death mask

A brave new life awaits beyond

According to Dr Faust’s last words…