Sunday, 27 March 2011


At this point in my creative endeavours in life, under no circumstances would I call my myself a photographer. Yes, I like taking photographs and yes I love my camera, but me, a photographer? No.

Sometimes, when I have a camera in my hand, my inner stalker comes out. I don't know way. It just happens. I must have about 77 thousand pictures of Ross by now. And that's only with the slightest bit of exaggeration.

My camera isn't even discrete! It's a big, black in your face DSLR. I wouldn't give myself the label of complete psycho just yet though. I don't take pictures of people I don't know. Normally. Hardly ever. 

Take yesterday as an example. Throw me, the hubs & two friends into York, with my camera in hand, and this is what happens. Please note, these are just a handful of the few (hundred) that I actually took. And I feel like you should know that none of these pictures were posed or forced. They're just naturally this affectionate. It makes me just the littlest bit sick. Not really. 

So, moral of the story, if we're hanging out, I have my camera and you don't want a million pictures of yourself at the end of it, tell me. Either that or be aware that I will force you to watch a slide show of all of the photos at the end of day. Because I do do (ha) that. Just sayin. 

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