But after being photographed, this little frozen in time nugget of life really does become frozen in time. The photograph becomes a form of eternalizing the visual, and of making it known. Through the copies of this photograph in my iPhone, on Instagram, and on this blog, more people have been exposed to an image of this baby blueberry than ever would have noticed its tiny existence after it was packaged, sold in the supermarket, and thrown away as it was not ripe enough to be eaten.
By transforming the long gone blueberry into an image, it becomes a symbol for itself and for its story. At least the sad story of the baby blueberry is known by few, rather than by none. And at least the image preserves not only its story, but the charm that emanates from its natural, budding (and yet no longer budding), form.
By transforming the long gone blueberry into an image, it becomes a symbol for itself and for its story. At least the sad story of the baby blueberry is known by few, rather than by none. And at least the image preserves not only its story, but the charm that emanates from its natural, budding (and yet no longer budding), form.
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