Sometimes I wonder why I have any friends or family who still love me.
I literally left my sister-in-law (who I’m lucky if I see twice a year) sitting alone at a restaurant table, while I dashed out into the cold to take this photograph. I’d watched the two sources of reflected light move across the church’s exterior for an hour, in glimpses, in the background over her shoulder as we talked. It’s not that I wasn’t paying attention to Annika, because really I was. But my eye kept getting snagged and finally I just gave up and asked her to forgive me while I ran to shoot the picture before it was gone.
You all know how I love the indirect, bounced light. This is the best of the few snaps I made before my lack of coat and embarrassment at abandoning my dining companion restored me to my senses.
I was going to come up with some kind of elaborate metaphor about light, shadows, and Plato’s Cave, but I’m still working on getting over a stomach bug and I don’t have the brain power for it. Suffice it to say: we can’t always see the source of the light, but when something is illuminated we know it must be there. The same is true of shadows; there are no shadows without the light.