The progression of shots you have may not have been done so as to be looked at as a strand, but for me, the textures of each feel so right together, and with that, a very intense, intimate crescendo from a panting old bog with stewing wood, to feet with pretty paint that are at work for the camera almost like clay in a potters hand, to flesh as white, natural and as lived in as jungle tusk, and then the very ponderous element of a mind captured in between/behind/out beyond reflecting eyes.
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The progression of shots you have may not have been done so as to be looked at as a strand, but for me, the textures of each feel so right together, and with that, a very intense, intimate crescendo from a panting old bog with stewing wood, to feet with pretty paint that are at work for the camera almost like clay in a potters hand, to flesh as white, natural and as lived in as jungle tusk, and then the very ponderous element of a mind captured in between/behind/out beyond reflecting eyes.
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