Is the place where I like to sit when I am sad. And I am sad often and that is where I stay until it’s over and I can move on with my life and engage it the meanderings of the world once again. It’s so interesting what kind of meanderings bring peace and sadness. I have both and they are glorious.
in the dark room, all they heard where whispers from voices past, and cool breezes as invisible fingers reached out to them. rasps against the cold walls were heard as they faded into nothing, and the wind blew them away.
My eyes could only see pitch black as they tried to adjust to the room’s absence of light. Slowly, my pupils began to dilate and I began to see the pictures in the swirling bucket of dark solutions in front of me developing as well.
I put my camera down. I was going into the darkroom to see what I had captured. I was hoping this may be the picture I had waited for; the one to change my life. As the film developed, I noticed the cloud in the sky- behind my intended subject. It was an angel. This would be the photo to change my life.
The room was poorly lit, a darkroom of terror. I felt my heart beating rapidly as I blinked rapidly, trying to get my eyes to adjust. In the corner, I thought I saw something move. Terrified, I turned to run out, only to crash into a shelf.
A darkroom is a somewhere that I go when I need peace and quiet. No one can bother me. I don’t bother any one. I just get to be by myself. Sometimes, I like being alone with my thoughts; other times I want to share what I’m thinking and talk to other people. Nevertheless, I need this time in the dark room. Peace and quiet. No toddler asking me to finish a puzzle. No husband, oblivious to my needs, talking about his job, as if that is the only think in the world that matters. Just me. I have my cell phone too; because I will need to check facebook.
i would love to have a dark room of my own someday. this is where i’d develope all of the amazing photos i envision myself taking….pictures of street people and gorgeous strange things i’d find on “treasure hunts”.
Photography … that’s the first thought. But then again it can just be a “dark” room. Dark rooms can be peaceful and reassuring or they can be scary and intimidating. Like in the girl waited fearfully in the dark room, hearing footsteps in the hallway, wondering if whoever it was intended to enter.
Clara struggled. Her fear betrayed her. She didn’t want to go into the darkroom. That was where the punishment was held. She swore and beat her fists against the men holding her. She wouldn’t enter. She wouldn’t. They laughed cruelly and through her inside. Black. That was all she could see. She didn’t know how big the room was, or what it contained. It would eventually become her world.
I live in a dark room. Full of shadows and monsters. I hate this dark room, yet I cannot leave it. I hear the monsters and they scare me. I cannot get away.
The darkroom was black, shroading the room in a deep, inpenertable dark. Greg groaned, not wanting to be in the room but really, not having a choice. After signing up as a last-ditch effort for photography, he needed to develop his pictures. He shuddered when he thought of what the shadows of the room would be hiding.
Darkroom is where traditionally photographs were developed and still are but sometimes I think a darkroom can actually mean a darkplace – somewhere which is not pleasant and there is no piece of mind nor contentment. I do not like it when I feel in a dark place.
Immediately I separate this into two words:
A dark room
Late at night, window shielded from street lights
And there’s nothing bright that can creep into this
Space that is both full and empty
It stood by the waterfall years ago like a miniature mansion – greyed timber cracked finial -opened up the double doors revealed a bench against the back wall lit by reflections from the water. If a passerby asked about it the answer was always the same — a shrug –o that’s the darkroom.
The images appeared slowly, white faded to be replaced by thin patterns of black lines.
“What is it? She whispered.
“I’m not sure yet,” Thelma answered as she grabbed the photograph from the tray and exited the dark room.
whoaaa its dark in here…its cause theres no lights and i might be in a room with no windows…i wonder what is gonna happen in a dark room probably something sketchy a lot of bad people hang out in dark rooms, also photographs develop in dark rooms, but those are nice dark rooms and would probably be easy to sleep in.
I was once in a darkroom, one summer day. There was a looming red light above my head. I feel like that is some kind of symbolism, but right now I’m too tired to go into symbolism and be deep and meaningful and stuff. It’s cool because you kind of feel like you’re gonna die but you get the photos and you feel like an intense photographer and people think you’re cool and artsy and stuff and everyone will love you.
Im sitting in a darkroom all by myself. I can’t see anything in front of me not even my own hand. But there is something about sitting in a darkroom that makes me feel good.
In the darkness very little could be seen. My eyes scanned the room, looking for clues about last night. Chinks of sunlight forced their way through the curtains, finding the dust clouds and turning them into snow.
Jon loved being in the dark room. That’s where he went to think. It was just him, and his pictures. It was awesome to be able to see things come into focus right in front of him. It was a like a reflection of his thoughts finally becoming clear too.
One day, I will have my darkroom. It’s going to be in my basement and It’s going to be so much fun! Theres nothing more beautiful then seeing your own pictures come to life. Specialy when the picture turns out perfectly!
Darkroom is where beautiful photography is made. Everything from your birthday pictures to a naked picture is all exposed here. It’s a darkroom because light will mess up the picture, which is why people who work at darkrooms are so white. Since they are so white. Go to a darkroom and check it out for youself!
The old man couldn’t figure out why his nephew had spent so long in the darkroom. It usually only took half an hour or so before he got bored with printing photographs. Until, eventually, the sheepish boy came out – with his girlfriend. The light in the darkroom wasn’t the only thing that was blushing red…
all i could see was black. i couldn’t make out any shapes or tell one thing from the next. they put me in the darkroom, away from all life. away from all light. they use this as a form of punishment, even though i clearly did nothing wrong. but when you go against the King I guess you are never right.
In the darkroom was the only place he could see the light. It was like all his potential…photographs…were finally actualized. Some thought it lonely. Some thought it damp. But to him, it was a place where his mind was free, and that was all that matter. A free mind is better than a free body anyday.
i was playing hide and seek in the darkroom of the house. however, i was not scared but felt as ease as darkness had become a part of life. strangely light annoyed me but darkness was my new friend and my companion. i wanted to be in the darkroom and wanted to explore it.
“Wow, this is kinda creepy.” I said, as I looked at the photos. A whole album of them, every single one of them including me. Here was one having lunch with my friends… Here was one of me getting into my car… Here was one of me looking out of my window, through the lacy curtains. “Where did you find all of these?”
“In a darkroom, hidden in a basement of this man’s house.” The police officer said, showing me a picture of a tall, older man, his hair and beard a grizzly white, no one I recognised.
Being in a dark room,,, that somewhat describes the grief a widow feels, but not quite, it’s more like a stark room with glaring deep sadness and what’s inside is dark, very dark and you can’t see you’re groping to go along and want to just Wake up from this p
In the cupboard under the stairs
the left over chemicals,
superceded by pixels,
things that aren’t really there.
I run my fingers along the clothesline
that used to hold your images
and pretend they are still there.
I’ve already been here before poking around trying to find something to say. Black cat in a coal cellar – now that’s a dark room. Dusty too. Dark doesn’t mean void – all the objects are there as obstacles without illumination.
scary. no light. you cant see anything in the room. you run in to things and fall.
you could play ghost in the dark room. Or coppers and thugs or whatever you call it. dark room, is also as
up the stairs with the dark patterned carpet fading at the toe treads- through the corridor where the servants used to bustle- this wasn’t a professioinal facility he thought as he srtruggled under the weight of 4 boxes =–this is more like running trains in an attic — like a schoolboy.
It was a dark room and silent too. I was lonely and scared. There was rain hitting ths window and the cold wind. I hid behind the blankets knowing it wouldnt matter. İt could see me in the dark. İt had dark eyes so couldnt be seen in darkness. İ felt its touch in my soul and i shivered gasped. İt told me to be quiet with a dark grin. İ could feel its hungry breathe for my soul and i tried to move my head buy it kissed me sucking my soul. And i remembered this heavy weight this shadow raping my soul making me miserable from my childhood it mostly catched me when i was alone. İ am not afraid. İ said. İ stood up. İ am not afraid of you anymore.
Dark room. heavy, heavy silence. you sit in the corner with your legs sprawled out and you can almost feel the solitude sitting on your shoulders. it’s an elegant darkness that is tantamount to being a star, breathlessly radiating
i see myself in this dark, empty space. i’m all alone. all I want is to find that special someone. someone who can care for me, love me, for who i am. i can’t help but think i’ll find him in the corner and be my shining light. but every corner i turn to, it’s dark. it’s dark and empty. when will i find him. who will let me find him. i’m scared in this room. all alone.
Dark room. Makes me think of cameras. Which makes me think of Brian, who is really annoying and pretentious. I don’t hate him. But he’s pretentious.
I wish I was better at photography. I have a collection of crap photos I collect to sort of remember moments. But I wish I could make my representation of those moments beautiful.
Is the place where I like to sit when I am sad. And I am sad often and that is where I stay until it’s over and I can move on with my life and engage it the meanderings of the world once again. It’s so interesting what kind of meanderings bring peace and sadness. I have both and they are glorious.
in the dark room, all they heard where whispers from voices past, and cool breezes as invisible fingers reached out to them. rasps against the cold walls were heard as they faded into nothing, and the wind blew them away.
My eyes could only see pitch black as they tried to adjust to the room’s absence of light. Slowly, my pupils began to dilate and I began to see the pictures in the swirling bucket of dark solutions in front of me developing as well.
I put my camera down. I was going into the darkroom to see what I had captured. I was hoping this may be the picture I had waited for; the one to change my life. As the film developed, I noticed the cloud in the sky- behind my intended subject. It was an angel. This would be the photo to change my life.
The room was poorly lit, a darkroom of terror. I felt my heart beating rapidly as I blinked rapidly, trying to get my eyes to adjust. In the corner, I thought I saw something move. Terrified, I turned to run out, only to crash into a shelf.
lonely, scray, photography, on my own, no windows, close door, blindness, infinite, no sight, empty, nothingness
A darkroom is a somewhere that I go when I need peace and quiet. No one can bother me. I don’t bother any one. I just get to be by myself. Sometimes, I like being alone with my thoughts; other times I want to share what I’m thinking and talk to other people. Nevertheless, I need this time in the dark room. Peace and quiet. No toddler asking me to finish a puzzle. No husband, oblivious to my needs, talking about his job, as if that is the only think in the world that matters. Just me. I have my cell phone too; because I will need to check facebook.
i would love to have a dark room of my own someday. this is where i’d develope all of the amazing photos i envision myself taking….pictures of street people and gorgeous strange things i’d find on “treasure hunts”.
Photography … that’s the first thought. But then again it can just be a “dark” room. Dark rooms can be peaceful and reassuring or they can be scary and intimidating. Like in the girl waited fearfully in the dark room, hearing footsteps in the hallway, wondering if whoever it was intended to enter.
Clara struggled. Her fear betrayed her. She didn’t want to go into the darkroom. That was where the punishment was held. She swore and beat her fists against the men holding her. She wouldn’t enter. She wouldn’t. They laughed cruelly and through her inside. Black. That was all she could see. She didn’t know how big the room was, or what it contained. It would eventually become her world.
I live in a dark room. Full of shadows and monsters. I hate this dark room, yet I cannot leave it. I hear the monsters and they scare me. I cannot get away.
The darkroom was black, shroading the room in a deep, inpenertable dark. Greg groaned, not wanting to be in the room but really, not having a choice. After signing up as a last-ditch effort for photography, he needed to develop his pictures. He shuddered when he thought of what the shadows of the room would be hiding.
Darkroom is where traditionally photographs were developed and still are but sometimes I think a darkroom can actually mean a darkplace – somewhere which is not pleasant and there is no piece of mind nor contentment. I do not like it when I feel in a dark place.
Immediately I separate this into two words:
A dark room
Late at night, window shielded from street lights
And there’s nothing bright that can creep into this
Space that is both full and empty
It stood by the waterfall years ago like a miniature mansion – greyed timber cracked finial -opened up the double doors revealed a bench against the back wall lit by reflections from the water. If a passerby asked about it the answer was always the same — a shrug –o that’s the darkroom.
The images appeared slowly, white faded to be replaced by thin patterns of black lines.
“What is it? She whispered.
“I’m not sure yet,” Thelma answered as she grabbed the photograph from the tray and exited the dark room.
whoaaa its dark in here…its cause theres no lights and i might be in a room with no windows…i wonder what is gonna happen in a dark room probably something sketchy a lot of bad people hang out in dark rooms, also photographs develop in dark rooms, but those are nice dark rooms and would probably be easy to sleep in.
I was once in a darkroom, one summer day. There was a looming red light above my head. I feel like that is some kind of symbolism, but right now I’m too tired to go into symbolism and be deep and meaningful and stuff. It’s cool because you kind of feel like you’re gonna die but you get the photos and you feel like an intense photographer and people think you’re cool and artsy and stuff and everyone will love you.
Im sitting in a darkroom all by myself. I can’t see anything in front of me not even my own hand. But there is something about sitting in a darkroom that makes me feel good.
In the darkness very little could be seen. My eyes scanned the room, looking for clues about last night. Chinks of sunlight forced their way through the curtains, finding the dust clouds and turning them into snow.
I’m done with darkrooms and waiting for things to develop – I’d like a present now please.
Jon loved being in the dark room. That’s where he went to think. It was just him, and his pictures. It was awesome to be able to see things come into focus right in front of him. It was a like a reflection of his thoughts finally becoming clear too.
One day, I will have my darkroom. It’s going to be in my basement and It’s going to be so much fun! Theres nothing more beautiful then seeing your own pictures come to life. Specialy when the picture turns out perfectly!
Darkroom is where beautiful photography is made. Everything from your birthday pictures to a naked picture is all exposed here. It’s a darkroom because light will mess up the picture, which is why people who work at darkrooms are so white. Since they are so white. Go to a darkroom and check it out for youself!
The old man couldn’t figure out why his nephew had spent so long in the darkroom. It usually only took half an hour or so before he got bored with printing photographs. Until, eventually, the sheepish boy came out – with his girlfriend. The light in the darkroom wasn’t the only thing that was blushing red…
all i could see was black. i couldn’t make out any shapes or tell one thing from the next. they put me in the darkroom, away from all life. away from all light. they use this as a form of punishment, even though i clearly did nothing wrong. but when you go against the King I guess you are never right.
In the darkroom was the only place he could see the light. It was like all his potential…photographs…were finally actualized. Some thought it lonely. Some thought it damp. But to him, it was a place where his mind was free, and that was all that matter. A free mind is better than a free body anyday.
i was playing hide and seek in the darkroom of the house. however, i was not scared but felt as ease as darkness had become a part of life. strangely light annoyed me but darkness was my new friend and my companion. i wanted to be in the darkroom and wanted to explore it.
“Wow, this is kinda creepy.” I said, as I looked at the photos. A whole album of them, every single one of them including me. Here was one having lunch with my friends… Here was one of me getting into my car… Here was one of me looking out of my window, through the lacy curtains. “Where did you find all of these?”
“In a darkroom, hidden in a basement of this man’s house.” The police officer said, showing me a picture of a tall, older man, his hair and beard a grizzly white, no one I recognised.
darkroom is where light died, no it was killed. the detectives as still investigating. but they cannot find me as I am hiding in darkroom :)
Being in a dark room,,, that somewhat describes the grief a widow feels, but not quite, it’s more like a stark room with glaring deep sadness and what’s inside is dark, very dark and you can’t see you’re groping to go along and want to just Wake up from this p
In the cupboard under the stairs
the left over chemicals,
superceded by pixels,
things that aren’t really there.
I run my fingers along the clothesline
that used to hold your images
and pretend they are still there.
I’ve already been here before poking around trying to find something to say. Black cat in a coal cellar – now that’s a dark room. Dusty too. Dark doesn’t mean void – all the objects are there as obstacles without illumination.
scary. no light. you cant see anything in the room. you run in to things and fall.
you could play ghost in the dark room. Or coppers and thugs or whatever you call it. dark room, is also as
up the stairs with the dark patterned carpet fading at the toe treads- through the corridor where the servants used to bustle- this wasn’t a professioinal facility he thought as he srtruggled under the weight of 4 boxes =–this is more like running trains in an attic — like a schoolboy.
It was a dark room and silent too. I was lonely and scared. There was rain hitting ths window and the cold wind. I hid behind the blankets knowing it wouldnt matter. İt could see me in the dark. İt had dark eyes so couldnt be seen in darkness. İ felt its touch in my soul and i shivered gasped. İt told me to be quiet with a dark grin. İ could feel its hungry breathe for my soul and i tried to move my head buy it kissed me sucking my soul. And i remembered this heavy weight this shadow raping my soul making me miserable from my childhood it mostly catched me when i was alone. İ am not afraid. İ said. İ stood up. İ am not afraid of you anymore.
Dark room. heavy, heavy silence. you sit in the corner with your legs sprawled out and you can almost feel the solitude sitting on your shoulders. it’s an elegant darkness that is tantamount to being a star, breathlessly radiating
i see myself in this dark, empty space. i’m all alone. all I want is to find that special someone. someone who can care for me, love me, for who i am. i can’t help but think i’ll find him in the corner and be my shining light. but every corner i turn to, it’s dark. it’s dark and empty. when will i find him. who will let me find him. i’m scared in this room. all alone.
Dark room. Makes me think of cameras. Which makes me think of Brian, who is really annoying and pretentious. I don’t hate him. But he’s pretentious.
I wish I was better at photography. I have a collection of crap photos I collect to sort of remember moments. But I wish I could make my representation of those moments beautiful.
There is a room in my house where memories are born. Where people never age and children remain young forever.