But, then again . . . . .

By TrikinDave

Star of Bethlehem.

We're now on our way home, half way across The North Sea. Our captain gave us regular updates starting with the, now traditional words, spoken in a bored voice, "Hello, yes, it's me again." He had informed us last night that, as we approached the shelter of Scotland the seas were becoming calmer, we were now moving across a millpond. It was a much more pleasant journey than the outward bound passage.

These flowers had decorated the meal tables for a week now and, in spite of having watched them slowly develop, many people thought they were plastic imitations. As with most macros, I took pictures at every possible aperture so that I would be able to select the most appropriate depth of field at my leisure; the picture chosen was the one where, for some strange reason of its own, the camera chose to use an exposure of eight seconds with flash. Un-surprisingly, the result was a softer image with false colours, but I rather liked it.

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