horns of wilmington's cow

By anth


Choose blip. Choose a site. Choose a name. Choose a photo. Choose a fucking big camera. Choose zoom lenses, filters, gorillapod tripods, and vibration reduction. Choose good stealth, candid shots and health insurance. Choose 50mm prime. Choose a starter studio. Choose your friends. Choose photo wear and matching crumpler. Choose a three figure flash on hire purchase in a range of fucking brightness. Choose self-portrait and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching for that late night desperation photograph, shooting the cat 5 minutes before it's midnight. Choose muttering away at the end of it all, photoshopping your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up followers you don't follow yourself. Choose your addiction. Choose blip...

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