the aperture of a can
is far different
from the aperture of a funeral hole
both do fill with liquid
eventually
just a different sort
a different type
one with carbonation
one with dead skin and leaves
and soil
rotting
one s w e e t
and another s i c k
It’s a small fear, maybe. She’s not really sure where it came from or why it happened. Why such a simple little thing such as staring down into a dark, seemingly neverending hole freaked her out. Even if it was just the hole of the sink’s drain, or the opening of a soft drink can.
Of course, as with all things, she grew out of it. The terrible fear. The intense apprehension. That didn’t mind her anxiety didn’t skyrocket whenever she spotted them; she simply didn’t react as heavily as she had when she was a kid. She didn’t run away, or choke up, or feel salty tears well up in amethyst eyes. As a teenager — and eventually, adult — all she really felt was an intensely uncomfortable feeling.
Amara never knew why. Anthony didn’t, either, and he wasn’t much of a help. It wasn’t like any trauma had occurred to Amara to make such a tiny thing such a fearful experience, to make her want to close her eyes and have to breath in and control her suddenly hammering heart, her suddenly clammy hands, skin breaking out into a cold sweat.
It isn’t until one night where Amara Meanders wakes up in her bed, mind full of the thought of her mother’s casket being put into a hole so deep in the earth it looked like it continued forever. And that, Amara realizes, must be where it all came from.
When I think of this word, I mostly think of a camera. It takes me back to when Jean was a photography student and took pictures of me outside. I hardly think of this word because of digital cameras–they seem to distance us from the taking of a photograph. The process is different and less hands-on.
aperture? I don’t know what this means! I should! Yet, I don’t, how sad. What a fall on my part! Oh how ashamed I am that I haven’t learned the meaning of this piece of English language!
i have no idea what this word means.
if I could make up a meaning, it would mean
something beautiful
like a peach tree
down south
in the sun.
I hope it is not an ugly word.
I’m running down the tunnel. Past bright lights on my left and the cars on my right. My breath is uneven now, but I push forward. I’m nearly at the end. I stumble out into the cool night air. I peer through the darkness, but I don’t see anyone behind me.
Aperture. I search for it my whole life, still, seems like there’s none. Nowhere is the one i’ve been looking for. For which am I even looking for? I don’t really know. I don’t know what I want. Apertures everywhere, still, it leads me nowhere. Still, I search for another. Still, I don’t care.
A single click, with perfect lighting, could make or break my career. Years of living with these beautiful beasts, years of avoiding their aggressive charges, years of my camera being drug through the mud and sludge and water, and somehow through it all, it survived long enough to take the picture that could define my life, put my name up there in the ranks of great photographers, like my hero, Ansel Adams. I saw the light rise over these creatures, the few stars left brightening just for me, the trees casting shadows over the sleeping elephants. A single click, and I grinned. I’ve seen my future, and it’s here, with this camera, and the beautiful assistant who doesn’t mind sleeping in tents with me and keeping me warm.
Jolly dragged himself through the park like a corpse. He tried to open his eyes in the face of the sun, adjust his aperture, get a grip on his sinking self, but the wine and the pills from the night before pulled him back and left him staggering along in a haze. Children sidestepped and mothers cast accusatory glances.
My photography course talks a lot about aperture. I understand what it means but not always what setting to use for the various pictures I am trying to achieve.
The shutter came down and captured everything; the colours, from red to green. The shapes and sounds that would have only been kept in my mind were captured…..forever…..
“It’d an Ancient styled house,” I explained, letting my finger trail along the line representing the outer wall.
“Meaning what?”
I barely resisted the urge to roll me eyes. I was NEVER working with amateurs after this again; I really meant it this time. “MEANING,” I began pointedly. “There are evenly placed apertures all along the topmost level; all we have to do is get to the top, find one that isn’t blocked, and take it down to the next level,”
it is the size of the hole through which the light passes and the amount of light is inversly proportional to size of aperture.it is mainly the unit of size of the lens.
Through a pinprick in the wall
I see a light to the outside,
A brightness blinding.
And yet, there’s comfort in the dark.
This glimpse of truth might be enough,
Without the maddening understanding
Of the central “Truth” that threatens to invade
As my fingers probe the concave
Aperture, curiouser and curiouser.
The light connects,
And senses flood my mind,
Capturing past, present, and future histories,
As I course through infinities
In time and space,
Breathable, living, for now I understand
The bond that connects us
Is the darkness, lying
In steady wait amidst the infinitesimal
Cosmos between the particles we
Call self, awaiting to be realized,
And finally free at last.
What’s an aperture? For a camera lens it is the equivalent of the pupil in our eye. Widening the aperture increases the amount of light that enters the lens.
the aperture of a can
is far different
from the aperture of a funeral hole
both do fill with liquid
eventually
just a different sort
a different type
one with carbonation
one with dead skin and leaves
and soil
rotting
one s w e e t
and another s i c k
Amara doesn’t really like huge openings.
It’s a small fear, maybe. She’s not really sure where it came from or why it happened. Why such a simple little thing such as staring down into a dark, seemingly neverending hole freaked her out. Even if it was just the hole of the sink’s drain, or the opening of a soft drink can.
Of course, as with all things, she grew out of it. The terrible fear. The intense apprehension. That didn’t mind her anxiety didn’t skyrocket whenever she spotted them; she simply didn’t react as heavily as she had when she was a kid. She didn’t run away, or choke up, or feel salty tears well up in amethyst eyes. As a teenager — and eventually, adult — all she really felt was an intensely uncomfortable feeling.
Amara never knew why. Anthony didn’t, either, and he wasn’t much of a help. It wasn’t like any trauma had occurred to Amara to make such a tiny thing such a fearful experience, to make her want to close her eyes and have to breath in and control her suddenly hammering heart, her suddenly clammy hands, skin breaking out into a cold sweat.
It isn’t until one night where Amara Meanders wakes up in her bed, mind full of the thought of her mother’s casket being put into a hole so deep in the earth it looked like it continued forever. And that, Amara realizes, must be where it all came from.
When I think of this word, I mostly think of a camera. It takes me back to when Jean was a photography student and took pictures of me outside. I hardly think of this word because of digital cameras–they seem to distance us from the taking of a photograph. The process is different and less hands-on.
i wasn’t blind
and i wasn’t in darkness;
i was just waiting
for something worth opening
my eyes to see.
an aperture
the size of my body
small then big then small then big
changing
often
like me
can i go through it?
aperture? I don’t know what this means! I should! Yet, I don’t, how sad. What a fall on my part! Oh how ashamed I am that I haven’t learned the meaning of this piece of English language!
He was smiling as he did it, she thought, anger and disgust flooding her. Through the camera she looked, twisting a dial to change the aperture.
“Bet you never thought anyone would see you doing this,” she said softly, then snapped the picture.
Aperture science. We do what we must, because we can.
i have no idea what this word means.
if I could make up a meaning, it would mean
something beautiful
like a peach tree
down south
in the sun.
I hope it is not an ugly word.
I’m running down the tunnel. Past bright lights on my left and the cars on my right. My breath is uneven now, but I push forward. I’m nearly at the end. I stumble out into the cool night air. I peer through the darkness, but I don’t see anyone behind me.
Aperture. I search for it my whole life, still, seems like there’s none. Nowhere is the one i’ve been looking for. For which am I even looking for? I don’t really know. I don’t know what I want. Apertures everywhere, still, it leads me nowhere. Still, I search for another. Still, I don’t care.
He picked up the camera and clicked a picture of her. Aperture set, focus right. What was lost was her beauty.
A single click, with perfect lighting, could make or break my career. Years of living with these beautiful beasts, years of avoiding their aggressive charges, years of my camera being drug through the mud and sludge and water, and somehow through it all, it survived long enough to take the picture that could define my life, put my name up there in the ranks of great photographers, like my hero, Ansel Adams. I saw the light rise over these creatures, the few stars left brightening just for me, the trees casting shadows over the sleeping elephants. A single click, and I grinned. I’ve seen my future, and it’s here, with this camera, and the beautiful assistant who doesn’t mind sleeping in tents with me and keeping me warm.
Jolly dragged himself through the park like a corpse. He tried to open his eyes in the face of the sun, adjust his aperture, get a grip on his sinking self, but the wine and the pills from the night before pulled him back and left him staggering along in a haze. Children sidestepped and mothers cast accusatory glances.
My photography course talks a lot about aperture. I understand what it means but not always what setting to use for the various pictures I am trying to achieve.
The shutter came down and captured everything; the colours, from red to green. The shapes and sounds that would have only been kept in my mind were captured…..forever…..
I thought I had opened the camera aperture enough to capture the remaining light, that evening on our tour to the water fall, from the valley below.
“It’d an Ancient styled house,” I explained, letting my finger trail along the line representing the outer wall.
“Meaning what?”
I barely resisted the urge to roll me eyes. I was NEVER working with amateurs after this again; I really meant it this time. “MEANING,” I began pointedly. “There are evenly placed apertures all along the topmost level; all we have to do is get to the top, find one that isn’t blocked, and take it down to the next level,”
it is the size of the hole through which the light passes and the amount of light is inversly proportional to size of aperture.it is mainly the unit of size of the lens.
Through a pinprick in the wall
I see a light to the outside,
A brightness blinding.
And yet, there’s comfort in the dark.
This glimpse of truth might be enough,
Without the maddening understanding
Of the central “Truth” that threatens to invade
As my fingers probe the concave
Aperture, curiouser and curiouser.
The light connects,
And senses flood my mind,
Capturing past, present, and future histories,
As I course through infinities
In time and space,
Breathable, living, for now I understand
The bond that connects us
Is the darkness, lying
In steady wait amidst the infinitesimal
Cosmos between the particles we
Call self, awaiting to be realized,
And finally free at last.
The curved ceiling of the cave had a cavernous aperture, dark and reaching deep into the recesses of the earth.
What’s an aperture? For a camera lens it is the equivalent of the pupil in our eye. Widening the aperture increases the amount of light that enters the lens.
Aperture…Well, it’s on a camera and it has something to do with light entering the hole so you can snap a picture.