Nguan, When time began to stand still

I love it when time stands still.
*
The deathly quiet scenes wrap us in an outdoor world of unimaginable colours. Each colour as comforting as the next, revealing each beautiful layer upon beautiful layer. The world appears to inhabit no-one in what may be false representations, waiting, for the chaos of the world to calm down, like a foreign siesta. The sun has not perished our chances of leaving the house, but merely left us abducted, strangely disconnected to our land.

Time stands still, as cars lay there waiting for help, planes hover over buildings, the colours freezing the moments in time, perfectly sprawled across the lens covered frame. The moments almost awquard, but their beauty breaks the silence of what could leave us shuffling our feet in anticipation.

The feeling universal throughout the land, the overwhelming 'nothing' of the passing scenes leave us travelling vacantly, never crossing vision with another. As people stare down, never paying to much mind to others around them. This moment is a lie, as its tendency to wait for beauty leaves us in the photographers head, not the scene itself. It is preyed upon, never representative of reality itself. Reality is dirty, mucky, clustered and lacks order. The chaos has been blunted, left temporarily frozen, yet we have no gauge when it will release from its contraption. When people eventually arrive, their expressions lie vacant and lost. Never contacting the land around them, only ever their state of mind, thoughts and feelings, their time and place.
Like the objects they remain rested, their limbs and carcass's subtly staying in limbo, appearing lifeless, but merely waiting, waiting for time to resume again.
*
I love it when time stands still.