I watched the game at this little bar on Polk Street called Cresta's. One woman in orange was discarding peanut shells on the ground and drinking white wine.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
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At our best and most fortunate we make pictures because of what stands before our camera, to honor what is greater and more interesting than we are. We never accomplish this perfectly, though in return we are given something perfect--a sense of inclusion. Our subject thus redefines us, and is part of the biography by which we want to be known.
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