Barthes states the amazing thing about photographs is that they do not lie. They capture a snapshot of a moment in time, and whatever was occurring at that moment is what is transcribed to an image. Photographs are special because they create a sense of wonder within the viewer, be it the questions of ‘I’ve been to this place, was I in the shot?’ or ‘is this person still alive?’, photographs allow for an endless number of questions, and often very few answers. However, the brilliance of photographs is also their downfall. They can be taken so spontaneously with little care that one may never remember the circumstances regarding the image. Overall, I find this reading to be tiring, a well worded mess, too focused on its own ostentatious poetic verse to get the point and give any fact besides the artistically written mind spew of the author.
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