I was busy trying to needle my lens through the sea of people last night, craning my neck to get a good shot.

My photographic passions are running at an all-time high right now. It’s sad, really, the number of times during the last two concerts that I had to say to B (and last night, C) “I’m sorry. I swear I’m done now.”

Until the next moment, when I immediately went back for the camera. I don’t know why I bothered putting the thing away.

It’s well-established, the fact that I enjoy being able to put things in perspective through words. But over the last year or so, I’ve also gotten hooked on phrasing things with an image. Whether it’s trying to snap Father Time dancing a jig with GPN’s Matt during “Sex Machine,” or debating pulling over the car to get that angle of the sunset over Lake Champlain, I’ve been loving the challenges presented. Playing around with the (free because I can’t justify buying Photoshop right now) image software on my computer. Buying more memory cards.

I’m loving it.

But as I tried to time the sways of the curly-haired man a row ahead of me last night, I couldn’t help but think it.

This would be so much more beneficial if I had some sort of clearance to Really Shoot This Thing.

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