(Sep 3) Ran back to Cordwood Landing Park to see what the camera could do in extremely low light.
Don’t be fooled. By the time I took this photo, I couldn’t see anything through the viewfinder.
I can’t remember for sure if I had a tripod or monopod, but I think I did use one.
By the time I took this photo, I couldn’t see anything on the LCD screen either.
(Sep 2) The long tyranny of August led into a short September, whereupon I had to move, yet again. As I write this, in February, it appears I will be moving again before summer, and quite possibly soon. I really don’t know why I bother packing and unpacking anymore.
I made a point to catch sunset at the train station.
It’s times like this that the camera shines compared to all of my previous digital cameras.
I’ve noted that I seem to be seeking out overhead views. This is inevitably a problem since I don’t have access to many.
Its lights turned out to be overwhelmingly bright.
Perhaps you just can’t film an oncoming train in twilight.
When it got closer than this, the lights overwhelmed the photos.
Someone waiting on the platform probably means that same train is going to roll back into the station westbound in few minutes.
(Aug 13) A newer (better) camera is for me, an opportunity to re-visit and re-photograph places I’ve been before. I think there’s value in it to see not just the (I hope) improved photographs, but the changes from time.
First stop, Port Jeff train station. Why? I don’t know.
But it seems fitting the journey would begin in Port Jefferson.
Which for the Port Jefferson Branch is…
These train bridges are one of the few high places out here I have access to
Most people don’t like the light these lamps make, but I kind of like how it photographs
I wish I could get up just a little higher. Another floor or two.
It is evening in Port Jefferson
(October 31) Went to see Ruth. The host had a doorman this time. I walked the 40 blocks to save $4.50, and none of the return trains took tickets, so the total cost of the trip… $10.75.
But this is new (to me)… presumably not named after the gay alien on American Dad
Every now and then, I escape back to the city where I belong.
Instead of being the train home to Brooklyn, now it’s the train to the city.
The number of drunks and bums Father Frank’s homeless shelter attracts to the area seems to have steadily risen over time. Now they’re passed out all over the train station day and night.
I prefer this city greeting to the drunks sprawled out on the platform in Port Jeff
Hello ESB, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.
The Endless March of the Yellow Cabs
It is now safe to walk uphill.