Twilight flickers mournfully. Electric glow tries to cover empty space, but fails. artifice cannot overcome…the reality that IS darkness.
A lonely man gets up. A nation waits. Breath stuck somewhere between lungs and soul.
The light is eerie. death-like. life-like. like worn-out halos and tarnished silver.
The light obscures the sorrow. frames the moment.
Generations to come will scarcely believe that such a man as this.
The light casts shadows on the earth.
None as big, as long, as dark as tonight.
An old man gets up.
‘The light has gone out of our lives’
A nation stumbles, and falls, for a long moment.
HENRI CARTIER BRESSON, NEHRU ANNOUNCING GANDHI’S DEATH, 1948
P.S: A THOUSAND WORDS will be an attempt to distill and put down first impressions on seeing and observing visual stimuli viz. a photograph, a painting, a book cover, even film. I hope to make this a daily affair, an attempt at crystallising a written interpretation (however imperfect and juvenile) of a visually triggered emotion.