That evening was cold. Upon my first contact with Prospect Park in Brooklyn I knew, felt, a different impression to the one I perceived at Central Park. Call it “intimacy”. Maybe it was the colors, or the narrow paths, sinously drawn, through the carpet of leaves. But let me tell you that I fell in love with its personality, its way to uncertainty. Autumn in Prospect Park is a enjoyable experience of reds, yellows, oranges, and introspection. That evening was cold but I forgot about it almost immediately, as I walked and took pictures at Prospect Park.
3 thoughts on “Autumn in Prospect Park”
During the process of editing of your pictures, I admired them and let my crazy prose seep out. Today I am marvelled just the same. And your words take me far. Once again you, the image and the word. I like that you found the park’s charm in the sinuous character of its paths, in the uncertainty of what will come beyond. Just as life, in some good sense unresolved, unusual and feeding our amazement.
All my love,
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Hello Emilio, Jose has just introduced your blog to me. I am enjoying these photos very much. Getting to see through your creative lens lets me know you a little bit. I find your words beautifully written and each photo its own magical story. I have strolled through Prospect Park a few times and found an appreciation of life that follows the paths.
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Hello Anne, I appreciate your words about my blog very much. Your comment is very important to me, not only because I see you really explored the posts with deep curiosity, looking beyond the surface, but because when I write, I am trying to tell my story, the one my eyes percieved in the moment I captured the scene, and I do so in English. Maybe Jose told you, maybe not, that I have had a blog in Spanish for 13 years now, although I have not written on it since many months ago. Anyway, my decision to make this photo-blog in English is a consequence of my necesity to convey my thoughts especially to the world I am living in, and to sensitive persons, capable to see on those images (good or bad) their own stories. I am feeling happy to have reached your eyes and your soul. Thank you.