The one that got away...

Just a little fun- here is the fake polly of the polly that got away, shot out of the camera into the breeze and over the edge of the cliff. To retrieve would have meant risking life and limb to climb over the safety barracked and down the ravine to rescue the photo, oh the photo. I was very tempted, weighing up the risk/benefit ratio whilst scanning the passing crowds in search of a limber rock climber to come to my rescue. Guess I will never know how that shot turned out, what magic developed, but I like to imagine stories of what happened to it. Perhaps a big gust came a long and whisked it out to sea where it land on a passing yacht off on a global adventure. Perhaps a mammoth current took it all the way across the Tasman to New Zealand where it washed up on the shore at the feet of a lone walker looking for magic treasures. Perhaps a romantic gesture was made at twilight when a brave lover climbed down to retrieve it as a gift for his new love. Perhaps the rain washed it down and somebody doing a good deed by picking up my litter noticed its beauty and took it home and put it in a frame where it still hangs just across the road from me.

I guess I'll never know. What I do know is that taking polaroids is a risky business (in more ways than I care to list) and often is a two man job, one to shoot and one to catch.