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Comments
The rich green colour, so intense.. and yet it also seems a little dark, adding to the melancholy mood of the lone stone arch with the vine creeping allover it. Fantastic photo by your Dad, and fantastic post-work by you
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Can't Rain All The Time..
Prints.
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Dans la candeur de l'aube naissante, tu t'avances,
Longeant la forêt de l'oubli;
Sous tes pas timides mais nerveux l'herbe danse,
Au gré sévère d'un vent maudit.
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In photography everything is so ordinary; it takes a lot of looking before you learn to see the extraordinary.
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Dans la candeur de l'aube naissante, tu t'avances,
Longeant la forêt de l'oubli;
Sous tes pas timides mais nerveux l'herbe danse,
Au gré sévère d'un vent maudit.
The hill is going up from the left to the right, and the tomb is also leaning to the right. I think this poits at the future in a way; since in a lot of countries we read from the left to the right, so the left can be the past and the right can be the future. The green colors put a lot of emphasis on the plants in this pic because they're the only object that is truly green in real life. nature seems to overcome everything here; the plants are slowly crawling the grave and it kind of looks like they are knocking the tomb down. There's nothing to stop those plants; they will not stop until the consume and assimilate everything in their path; and it seems like they managed to knock the cross at the top of the tomb down. Also, there's a tree toward the left that looks as if it's dead, so it adds up to the left being the past in this pic. Also the watermark that you added is floating there like a ghost or a similar apparition.
Well done!!
Your interpretation is very right (I use google to traduce it
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Dans la candeur de l'aube naissante, tu t'avances,
Longeant la forêt de l'oubli;
Sous tes pas timides mais nerveux l'herbe danse,
Au gré sévère d'un vent maudit.
--
Dans la candeur de l'aube naissante, tu t'avances,
Longeant la forêt de l'oubli;
Sous tes pas timides mais nerveux l'herbe danse,
Au gré sévère d'un vent maudit.
--
Dans la candeur de l'aube naissante, tu t'avances,
Longeant la forêt de l'oubli;
Sous tes pas timides mais nerveux l'herbe danse,
Au gré sévère d'un vent maudit.
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