The hour belongs to the fog and kingfishers that move above the stream softer than a lover’s sigh. And I am among them, their guest, trying to freeze these precious moments, trying to hold them forever in bits of digital code. I am never satisfied with the results. An image can not capture the feel of clean, crisp air on your arms and face or the unique smell of a wild place. It is as futile as trying to photograph freedom but I try, I try.
Buz Kiefer 10/1/05