To photograph is to hold one's breath, when all faculties converge to capture fleeting reality. It's at that precise moment that mastering an image becomes a great physical and intellectual joy.
Henri Cartier-Bresson
It sat. There was silence.
How do you explain that?
There was a balance struck: it was enough.
Nothing had altered.
How could it be the same?
After all, there was the memory of a happiness.
She had known the passion of love.
He smiled a little, as if the silence pleased him.