The eye looked at her eyes looking at her lips as she smeared them scarlet. The man at her shoulder, one arm around her waist, held the phone in the other in front of her face for the touch-up. The seen processed and projected, the image resembled a mirror, but not reflecting, watching.
Once in almost every woman's handbag was a powder compact, often quite elegant, with an application puff and a small mirror to facilitate making up. Light reflected from your faces was in turn reflected off the glass back past your heads. Those reflected rays traced back to convergence seemed to emanate from your face, a living, virtual face, as far behind the glass as you in front. It's all geometry.The camera eye, however, presents a real image, recordable, transmittable, waiting orders.
Once there would have been two, the dashing woman with thick, wind-winnowed hair enhancing the brilliance of her luscious lips, and her beau in the camel-hair coat pleased with her excellence with four eyes total delighting in the scene, and the mirror no more able to freeze the magic of the moment than they could have.
Now, there's a fifth, not vain, not proud, but focused, and alert to the gentle pressure that will rip this live outdoor moment from her face and paste it to the wall of some gallery under the heading: Lips.
Once in almost every woman's handbag was a powder compact, often quite elegant, with an application puff and a small mirror to facilitate making up. Light reflected from your faces was in turn reflected off the glass back past your heads. Those reflected rays traced back to convergence seemed to emanate from your face, a living, virtual face, as far behind the glass as you in front. It's all geometry.The camera eye, however, presents a real image, recordable, transmittable, waiting orders.
Once there would have been two, the dashing woman with thick, wind-winnowed hair enhancing the brilliance of her luscious lips, and her beau in the camel-hair coat pleased with her excellence with four eyes total delighting in the scene, and the mirror no more able to freeze the magic of the moment than they could have.
Now, there's a fifth, not vain, not proud, but focused, and alert to the gentle pressure that will rip this live outdoor moment from her face and paste it to the wall of some gallery under the heading: Lips.
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