Metal Typer

Metal Typer

About this project

In spi­te of all that has hap­pen­ed sin­ce, I still remem­ber that vigil very dis­tinct­ly: the black and silent obser­va­to­ry, the shado­wed lan­tern thro­wing a fee­b­le glow upon the floor in the cor­ner, the steady ticking of the clock­work of the tele­scope, the litt­le slit in the roof–an oblong pro­fun­di­ty with the star­dust strea­ked across it. Ogil­vy moved about, invi­si­ble but audi­ble. Loo­king through the tele­scope, one saw a cir­cle of deep blue and the litt­le round pla­net swim­ming in the field. It see­med such a litt­le thing, so bright and small and still, faint­ly mar­ked with trans­ver­se stri­pes, and slight­ly flat­te­ned from the per­fect round. But so litt­le it was, so sil­very warm–a pin’s‑head of light! It was as if it qui­ve­r­ed, but real­ly this was the tele­scope vibra­ting with the acti­vi­ty of the clock­work that kept the pla­net in view.
As I wat­ched, the pla­net see­med to grow lar­ger and smal­ler and to advan­ce and rece­de, but that was sim­ply that my eye was tired. For­ty mil­li­ons of miles it was from us–more than for­ty mil­li­ons of miles of void. Few peop­le rea­li­se the immen­si­ty of vacan­cy in which the dust of the mate­ri­al uni­ver­se swims.

Details

Date:  26. Mai 2014
Skills:  Stills, Urban
Client:  Anemon Hotels