tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34401824439771256782024-02-19T07:57:31.774-08:00Whatever WorksIn a world without order, justice, or any belief systems that are uncorrupted or rational, you do what makes you happy. Then you die.duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-9185391078346002402010-04-15T17:49:00.000-07:002010-04-15T17:55:32.511-07:00Keep fightingDidn't get the job in DC. I cried over it. <br />In 3 hours, I took a shower, an advil and got out of the apartment. It's not a big deal, life is a balance, you lost something somewhere, you can always pick it up somewhere else. Besides, as Z said on the phone, we have each other, that's more important than anything else.<br />Keep fighting! Don't lose faith!duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-83211167093136529702010-01-14T23:36:00.000-08:002010-01-14T23:49:00.175-08:00May I Say I Am Happy?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2eVQUNF-5sWUaiZGHsacD5AGzUeVe9zFGX2diKIfwt3foIAUtMnyCfm630g98FrPCNberw70cqdCSTfUeGD9cgx65HnGoIS8174vQ97Mp7rt7vMVMDwY3ZB1qL3stne2B1J5IeTtNwU/s1600-h/_3001948.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy2eVQUNF-5sWUaiZGHsacD5AGzUeVe9zFGX2diKIfwt3foIAUtMnyCfm630g98FrPCNberw70cqdCSTfUeGD9cgx65HnGoIS8174vQ97Mp7rt7vMVMDwY3ZB1qL3stne2B1J5IeTtNwU/s400/_3001948.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426867912673053538" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yan</span></span><br /><br />I sing!<br />I cheer!<br />I laugh!<br />I shout!<br /><br />It's sweet!<br />It's complete!<br />It's jubilant!<br />It's fearless!<br /><br />Oh,<br />Love!<br />My sweet love!duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-64184070843932093142010-01-12T23:04:00.000-08:002010-01-12T23:39:20.602-08:00Life is a drama<span style="font-style: italic;">by Yan</span><br /><br />Jan 7th, Thursday, 2010. One month after the D.C. trip...<br /><br />My left ear has been hot and burning for a whole day. In Chinese saying, if one of your ear burns, that means somebody is thinking about you.<br /><br />On the way driving home, this old saying creeped on me: He, the man that I said final goodbye with, might be thinking about me. <br /><br />'Stupid!' I heard myself accusing myself. I was pulled back to the reality. 'Bulletproof' was playing from my speaker. I wish I could be bulletproof. <br /><br />Several days ago, I clearly analyzed the situation with my friend.<br />a) I've truly made my final decision to break from the past<br />b) The only exception is he fly to LA and beg me to come back<br />c) Situation B will never happen on him<br />d) Thus, I am truly over with it this time<br /><br />Today has been a long day. I sent out 3 reports in the past 3 days. I took off early today, only wanted to get home, feed my stomach and vegetate.<br /><br />10.10pm<br />I was surfing the Internet randomly, feeling bored. <br /><br />Phone started to buzz...<br /><br />'Ding Dong', a message from him. I had thought about deleting his number after coming back, but did not anyway. My argument is if you can remember the person's number, what's the point of removing it from the phone list since you won't be able to remove it from memory anyway.<br /><br />My heart started to beat faster...<br /><br />'Nobody is home' I did not hesitate at all to reply. <br /><br />'I can hear you'. I could tell he is definitely in a playful mood<br /><br />'Who's that?' I was playing along.<br /><br />'Open the door and you see'. <br /><br />'I did not want surprise'<br /><br />'Just a little chat'<br /><br />'I did open the door' I replied in a cheated way<br /><br />2 seconds later, I heard banging on my door<br />'Open the real door', came this familiar voice, the voice that I can even hear it in my dream.<br /><br />I dashed to the door, opened the door, and there he is...smiling...<br /><br />'May I come in?'duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-83881378439301485352010-01-04T21:20:00.000-08:002010-01-04T21:40:32.174-08:00Key Milestones of Yan Zhang<span style="font-style: italic;">by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yan</span></span><br /><br />11/25/1977, born as a girl in a normal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Shanghainese</span> family. Grandpa names me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Yan</span>, meaning '<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">swallow</span>' (the little black bird) in Chinese<br /><br />9/1/1984, started elementary school in China's best one<br /><br />12/1984, got bad temper fixed by teacher<br /><br />9/1/1989, started high school in China's best one<br /><br />9/1/1996, started college in China's best medical school, did not manage to become a doctor, which leads me to a totally different life<br /><br />June, 1999, started dating my 1st boyfriend, formed a band called Nutty, felt like it was heaven <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">every time</span> I looked at my man<br /><br />August, 2000, started my 1st job, felt at lost of what I wanted for career<br /><br />September, 2003, realized my studying abroad dream in UK<br /><br />December, 2004, graduated in Master's of Science if Management, almost graduated with honor; broke up with my man after his cheating on me twice. 1st romance durance: 5 years<br /><br />Feb, 2005, back to Shanghai, started Marketing Research job by accident<br /><br />December 2005, met my last bf, felt like heaven again<br /><br />March, 2007, joined current company<br /><br />July, 2007, bf moved back, heart broken, darkest period in life, mental disorder (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">LOL</span>) 2<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">nd</span> romance durance: 1.5 yrs<br /><br />November 2007, got my 1st SLR camera Pentax<br /><br />April, 2008, traveled for one month in the US<br /><br />May, 2008, started applying for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">intl</span>. transfer<br /><br />June, 2008, got job offer in LA<br /><br />November, 2008, moved to LA<br /><br />September, 2009, got my 2<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">nd</span> SLR camera, Nikon D90<br /><br />November, 2009, traveled to NYC and D.C, saw the man, heart still beat fast<br /><br />1/14/2010, photo published by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">NYtimes</span><br /><br />Looking back, it was not bad at allduduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-57225406380176021252009-12-26T22:45:00.000-08:002010-01-04T21:20:39.202-08:00Yes, They Can<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjOmpYvdMsNcbuRbiejl2N0bPBdfrPE31hOs9tUeRbrC5A7tkV_KCdRHLT1neze0vzYrS8ScNPN1S_bRF_f40oj4Gt-xCVqtavR_urGsk97YDOma1cEJJckMxE5XNe4cPrsB6ohavHro/s1600-h/IMGP9402.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjOmpYvdMsNcbuRbiejl2N0bPBdfrPE31hOs9tUeRbrC5A7tkV_KCdRHLT1neze0vzYrS8ScNPN1S_bRF_f40oj4Gt-xCVqtavR_urGsk97YDOma1cEJJckMxE5XNe4cPrsB6ohavHro/s400/IMGP9402.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423121331295091458" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yan</span></span><br /><br />This picture was taken on June 14<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span>, 2009, during the 39<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> Los Angeles LGBT Pride Parade. I submitted this photo to NY Times today, in participation of the Documenting the Decade Project, with a dim hope that this picture will be selected.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">With</span> the belief of everybody was born to be equal, I've never held any discrimination against same-sex relationship. In fact, being good friends with several gay, I actually have high respect on their courage to fight the society, to fight so called 'normal' relationship opinion.<br /><br />This afternoon, one of my best gay friend left me a message on my blog, telling me I should be happy. We then chit chatted a little bit about his ex and my ex. When I closed the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">MSN</span> window, I thought to myself, if they can pull themselves together, under such huge pressure, I must be able to feel truly happy one day.duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-73124269539327254812009-12-20T20:39:00.000-08:002009-12-26T22:45:23.119-08:00Cemetery of Memory<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3TyldpjpIWtAov6WWkrWBt6iz2EBdjGM8tFiBn92KsKbbS5tGQtYLzxw-_noQ7jWSvoXc031eCJnuzbiX17NleQWUTonqZ6TlDB9TED8F5bPLhpQ0unSrqkKWc-I_aDPcblOblahm7M/s1600-h/DSC_0283.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3TyldpjpIWtAov6WWkrWBt6iz2EBdjGM8tFiBn92KsKbbS5tGQtYLzxw-_noQ7jWSvoXc031eCJnuzbiX17NleQWUTonqZ6TlDB9TED8F5bPLhpQ0unSrqkKWc-I_aDPcblOblahm7M/s320/DSC_0283.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418566061759817810" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yan</span></span><br /><br />In the cemetery of memory<br />I am helpless<br />It's the vague connection that I want to break<br />Yet, fear to release<br /><br />In the cemetery of memory<br />It's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">irresistible</span><br />I bring flowers everyday<br />Yet, it's the ultimate land that should be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">deserted</span>duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-24263803214464615732009-12-09T23:00:00.000-08:002009-12-23T14:50:50.177-08:00Next Stop is...<span style="font-weight: bold;">Next Stop is...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">by Yan</span><br /><br />It's the 3rd day since I came back from my east coast trip. Work has been crazy ever since, which is good for me as I don't have the time and energy to sob, to mourn over the final ending of a memory, a blurry feeling, a vague hope...<br /><br />NYC subway photos are the 1st set of pictures that I processed and posted. Subway theme has always been one of my interested topic to shoot for. Simply because all the passengers that you encounter, you see, or walk by, hold different thoughts, aim for different destinations, or are dragged into different moods. All those feelings and status quos all cram into the underground, into a small car. Imagine if you could 'hear' people's thoughts, I am pretty sure that nobody could survive in that situation with all the information pouring down. Lucky, we don't have super power. Lucky, I have my eyes and camera, I communicate with others silently through my view finder. I don't want the full pictures of their day, I just want the decisive moment.<br /><br />One day, when I was sitting in the train, listening to the annoucement of different stops, I was wondering what my next stop is? In real life...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1S5Vh5dtWlToUKV0SvUqWZY_xOtBxh6hb1mhpa6mnLaMB3UEzHM6yeHcXJG7IIIC3oucLXtGyGgrlTIy5C0ZfUT_jXVXtG49esaL9eepilG97iQOxFuahp1DiYU_2fTfO77nFl2aVeFA/s1600-h/DSC_0155.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 507px; height: 379px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1S5Vh5dtWlToUKV0SvUqWZY_xOtBxh6hb1mhpa6mnLaMB3UEzHM6yeHcXJG7IIIC3oucLXtGyGgrlTIy5C0ZfUT_jXVXtG49esaL9eepilG97iQOxFuahp1DiYU_2fTfO77nFl2aVeFA/s400/DSC_0155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413499923491547138" border="0" /></a>duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-60633802501491847092009-10-26T22:22:00.000-07:002009-10-26T23:00:44.105-07:00It's all about sports<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfR-Tz1-y5WL2dooIpVdplWw6IUadW8dcbK8AdeApdjnoZtmpDW1_57TFH2HkhHD8NM6D9krVKBv0xD9iC4ojgFIUk79dzNPunL2O_GQbDqRADWwrsKjv-QAgK6W4UaMMDKKOK44mej0I/s1600-h/2009-04-02.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfR-Tz1-y5WL2dooIpVdplWw6IUadW8dcbK8AdeApdjnoZtmpDW1_57TFH2HkhHD8NM6D9krVKBv0xD9iC4ojgFIUk79dzNPunL2O_GQbDqRADWwrsKjv-QAgK6W4UaMMDKKOK44mej0I/s320/2009-04-02.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397147836626468866" border="0" /></a>I have been watching quite a few Yankees' baseball games lately. Their entry to the World Series did excite me a lot on Sunday night. <br /><br />Being in a sport country, I am overwhelmed by ordinary Americans' passion about sport, by the comprehesive system of promoting and merchandizing sports. <br /><br />A lot of Americans are passionate about sports, not only in watching them, but also in seriously playing them. Your quiet, shy co-worker might be a serious mountain biker, your ordinary looking neighbour could be an amateur marathon runner. They devote time and money on the sports they play. So if next time, you hear an American saying he is 'OK' in this sport, please remember that he could be killing you if you ever play with him.<br /><br />Sports are more than a mere excercise in this country. It becomes a culture, a way of socializing. I once heard an American born Chinese's complaint about being left out by his co-workers, just because he's not into any type of sports. I was surprised to hear the story when I was in Shanghai, but now, I understand where he comes from. In this country, if you know nothing about sports, that means, you are socially disabled, well, at least for a guy. The consequence is, when you get to work on Monday morning, if you don't know the score for the Sunday NFL game, at least for your city team, TRY TO AVOID EYE CONTACT WITH OTHERS, AND TRY NOT TO TALK TO ANYBODY!<br /><br />Does that mean, being a woman/girl, if you know a lot about sports, that's definately a turn on? The answer is YES.<br /><br />I was lucky enough to have a smart ex boyfriend, who taught me ABC about baseball. I made one Yankees' calendar for him one year, and it absolutely turned him on. And I guess, that's part of the reasons that he loved me ? The good outcome of it is: one afternoon I was watching Yankees vs. LA Angels (Angels wear red) in the company kitchen. A guy from sister company came over and asked me which team I rooted for. Before I opened my mouth, he said, oh I guess you like Angels because you like RED!. I turned my head, stared at him and said it calmly, no, I like Yankees, because I like BLUE and I love Derek Jeter, but now I am also into CC Sabathia, just because he's a great pitcher. And also, I know what is pitching and what is batting. Silence...the guy finally opened his mouth, and said, well, I am impressed :)<br /><br />End of Story!<br /><br />This country is full of fun!duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-53135908615240601632009-09-28T23:55:00.000-07:002009-09-29T00:20:49.087-07:00People come and People go, that's how life rolls<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrhlXKKY2EJYAVdtHbYTStZXYf_Wyj9dj6Jyw1zbQKWBlhMDLU9fkwKxCguS66Cja1bqaxE8rpsFT1VBjlM7oS1uxHrSnUifN_cld2IEd_LXEJXu-bW90PXUEOJYH-qb_Meix6ke8U0c/s1600-h/DSC_0218.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrhlXKKY2EJYAVdtHbYTStZXYf_Wyj9dj6Jyw1zbQKWBlhMDLU9fkwKxCguS66Cja1bqaxE8rpsFT1VBjlM7oS1uxHrSnUifN_cld2IEd_LXEJXu-bW90PXUEOJYH-qb_Meix6ke8U0c/s320/DSC_0218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386785939610195618" border="0" /></a><br />September 28th, 2009. 11.56pm<br /><br />Have been practising video editing ideas the whole evening for Nicole and Andy's farewell gift. With the music from Craig Armstrong's piano album, I got a bit sentimental about this lovely couple's leave. Although it has only been 11 months, and I barely know them outside office life, I still feel pretty sad just because they are nice people.<br /><br />I remember back in the senior year in the college, I was quite sad for several months to see 2 very good friends' leave, one to Germany and one to the US. Till now, I have lost contact with the US guy and almost stopped talking to the Germany girl. And now, I am thousand miles away from my Shanghai friends, where some people might still think about me now and then.<br /><br />Talked to Z tonight, still miss him a lot, although he has been already classified as a passenger in my life directory.<br /><br />We will encounter many people in our life, most of them will only be passengers, leaving different marks in our memory. Some are called sorrow, some are called sweet moments, some are called eternal love...<br /><br />Basho is sleeping quietly beside me when I am mumbling these words. Sweet feelings aroused...she must be called sweet marks one day in the future after she passes away...<br /><br />Good night, to all the people I love...duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-4919787435264367452009-08-20T23:48:00.001-07:002009-08-21T21:10:05.451-07:00Cut the crap, we don't need a convenient lie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5H30aI52kgXPqWnRygAxukhuf3IZ0e91ypTU6YQjOEYR6w_R105CKFts91Qr0aI5D2Jp90W3tI9E7YbcEXzxvBOXuV7Rn85YyAv6i7gGkdZbshIbNAbXFre-ybY9DPlDg_ApwJ6W43Y/s1600-h/An+old+couple+in+Midnight+Downtown+Los+Angeles.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5H30aI52kgXPqWnRygAxukhuf3IZ0e91ypTU6YQjOEYR6w_R105CKFts91Qr0aI5D2Jp90W3tI9E7YbcEXzxvBOXuV7Rn85YyAv6i7gGkdZbshIbNAbXFre-ybY9DPlDg_ApwJ6W43Y/s320/An+old+couple+in+Midnight+Downtown+Los+Angeles.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372635537965998546" /></a><br />A good Canadian friend was just dumped by his girlfriend after a 1.5 year's dating and living together. The reason she gave him was: After a long time of evaluation, I think I will end up marrying a Chinese. This relationship is going nowhere. We should stop seeing each other. I am sorry, this is not your fault, it's my problem. <br /><br />(Yes, you have seen/heard that script many times)<br /><br />After seeing so many successful marriages between different culture background couples, white with Chinese, white with black, Indian with Chinese, his girlfriend's so called 'reason' is surely a convenient lie to me. <br /><br />When it comes to breakup, there seems to be countless superficial reasons: our life goal is different, we don't have anything in common, you are giving me too much pressure, I don't want to get married so soon...blah blah blah...But hey people! Why don't you just tell the other one the truth, only the truth, nothing but the truth: I DON'T LOVE YOU! <br /><br />People tend to use superficial reasons to create a false image that they still love the other one, however, they are 'forced' to leave. Will that make the other feel better? NO! Leaving me is leaving me, there is never a good 'leaving me' with a good will. Will that make the whole breaking up situation any easy? NO! The other one will always try to find a 'solution' to stop you leaving them. A 'solution' often includes crying, email and phone bombing, harassing friends and trying to have them talk you through, negotiating to give up marriage forever etc etc.. <br /><br />Hey Mr. and Miss coward, when it comes to breakup, we don't need a convenient lie. Please just be frank to the others, telling them that you don't love them anymore, telling them that they are not the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. Because with that said, they know their heart should be withered on you, and blossom somewhere else.duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440182443977125678.post-10718788662398089232009-08-18T21:46:00.000-07:002009-08-18T22:01:18.403-07:00The Net<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGksf5nJ4q1iHaONepoH902wb_DR9OGICLHxaZTYSjROLmOdAf6pRlJrued2qPQ5q1h6W9fRXoBdvQHQEMgzzMUTtGNOr7lQVETIAdsmsq1sRVbKC0Xrg9rU0kEBlukTIKuUWeOOcl8mI/s1600-h/The+Net+and+Modern+World.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371532191723451506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGksf5nJ4q1iHaONepoH902wb_DR9OGICLHxaZTYSjROLmOdAf6pRlJrued2qPQ5q1h6W9fRXoBdvQHQEMgzzMUTtGNOr7lQVETIAdsmsq1sRVbKC0Xrg9rU0kEBlukTIKuUWeOOcl8mI/s320/The+Net+and+Modern+World.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">This shot almost made me scream in the midnight in downtown LA. I was very excited about the idea behind this picture. For the background information: I caught this gigantic spider and his net on a bridge in a huge business park. Through the net, you can see the blurry lights and fountain in downtown LA. The spider sit in the middle of his fort, just waited and waited for his prey...</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;">When I peaked through my viewfinder, this idea came to mind all of sudden: </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"><strong>Modern world is a huge net. Chances for insects to be caught by spiders are odd. Chances for human being to be caught by troubles, by sorrows, by tragedies are 100%. </strong></span>duduququhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15321539272417321560noreply@blogger.com0