.photography as sense.

Ukraine photographer, Oleg Oprisco creates these poetic and surreal environments...aren't they breathtaking?

Please view the rest of his work: http://oprisco.com/gallery/

hickory dickory dock

morning time is the best time, where quiet and still things reign. it's so sadly rare for it to be quiet here, there's always a chime or a television or unending monologues to drone out the quiet. the ticking of the clocks (for there is not one, but many) is the only exception to my disdain, instead invoking alternates madness and comfort. frequently a reminder of all the time i'm wasting, all the life i'm not living, the marching of adventure i'm somehow missing. it's rythym is somehow a call to arms for me. some days i embrace it and take the march out into the world with me. mostly, i crawl back under the proverbial covers with promises to return the call later. the comfort comes from the reminder of a heart that no longer beats, but once did. the quiet reminds me of being 5, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, up well before i needed to be but how important those early morning hours were. everything was special. special toast, special coffee, special section of the newspaper. just me and him. we try to keep those clocks wound tight, each chime bringing something closer, a memory, a feeling, a thought, always a reminder. there is no comfort in the ticking this morning, though, as the biggest clock stands grand and ominous, unmoving currently. never touching the clock still deeply engrained, i have no idea how to wind it up myself. no one else seems particularly bothered by it, so i must wait. we have a stare-down. it looks at me, challenging me to fix it. i look at it, and it becomes something else. it becomes tears i refuse to cry, hands i will not hold, doors that lead to no safe place, and gears that are stopped indefinately. the task becomes too great and i admit my defeat, leaving it for someone else, to whom it's just a clock.