The light of the scan

 Light is, more often than not, what really makes a photograph. And one thing that makes the scanner such a fascinating and wondrous machine is its great line of light, making its way across the pane slowly like a monk marching steadily alongside a river. I don't know. It has a beauty to it. That slow crawl that's almost too slow for the eyes. The line that darts about when you look elsewhere. Just like those RGB projectors that show you all three colours in wiggles when you move your eyes. I love those.

 Anyway here I am. These scans are actually from, I think, November last year. And don't I look the same as ever? The scanner bed has a way of equalising the skin. I look older in person than I did thirteen years ago, but here it hardly looks different. Same flesh as always. Same hair, more sandy on the screen, maybe.

But I do have, here, my orange journal and the clear pink glasses that leave semi-permanent dents either side of my nose. How rude of them.