Become re-acquainted with the darkness, my friend. In the murk of half-exposed profiles, of shadows blurring into each other, furtive hands, and the imagination of childhood stirs. Let not the garish light unveil all; let mystery and black enchantment rule. The light is now but a necessary evil: it defines edges, and in its revealment, implies unseen crepuscules, skin and hair and nails cloaked in the tenebrous aether.
A glowing lip, an eyepiece glints, shapes move against silver foil. A flash goes off, blinding in its intensity. Cameras struggle in the shadows; catching random light – from an LED, or the red patterns of a focusing light. My flash fires, freezing a frame in the murk, a spotlight on a moment.
I even think I found God, in the flash bulbs of your pretty cameras.
It’s not foolproof. Dark frames, full of but hints of potential, fill my card. Spray and pray, my brain snidely tells me. Spray in the general direction, and something might eventuate.
Desperate, someone switches on their high-power light. All the mystery is lifted. The darkness, a solid wall for so many minutes, has fled all too easily. I leave the room, birthed out through the bodies of photographers and party goers, and seek re-enchantment.