I'm quite happy with many of the stills from Paris. They carry a nice weight that I'm happy to have discovered in the editing process. I found a new love for the shadows and contrasts hidden in the city of light. Frankly, the camera I took these shots with was terrible. It was a cheap prosumer digital, designed for soccer moms to take pictures of their winners.
Just kidding, sort of.
Many of these shots could be crisper, the framing could be tighter, the colors could be richer. However their faults, many of them feel like callbacks to postcards my mother sent our family from her work overseas.
In one sense, my fight or flight-over-the-atlantic impulse had kicked in. In another it was an exploration of my depressions left over my mother's death. The images I produced helped me to slog through the unfocused fog. I found a focus.