LEN

How is photography violent? I mean, if we take photos with appreciation and loving heart, then how? By observing the motives of taking photos, I think perhaps the violence of photography lies in the hidden declaration on each still images:"all these are mine." The luxurious dishes, family bonding, treasurable friendship, the taste of art, astonishing sunrise, romantic craziness, smiles. Faces. Moments.  The meaning is framed. Few choices are left for readers. Admiration. Explanation. But on dead things. If things only live as they live to their fullest, if they only exist in the flow of  time, then, to capture a moment of them is to make a specimen. Those beautiful little dead things.

他一直旋轉， 在掉落的邊緣不停歇。 那姿態帶有一點恆常的味道。 現在已經沒有什麼事可以嚇著他。 矛盾的是他最熱情擁抱生命的樣貌， 竟是白色，一抹「安於命定的冷漠」。 眾多面具之下他沒有臉。 荒謬感一陣陣湧上喉頭， 時間像痰。