An absent photographer with a voracious appetite
It would be impossible to know exactly how many images of us really exist in the world; how many photos and videos of us have been taken, how many captured moments we have produced. How many fractured, low resolution pixelated bits of data we have been instrumental in. How many bursts of time we have unwillingly marked, minding our own business, doing what it is we do, going about our daily lives, unseen, unheard. Data collection comes in many forms but probably the most obvious are those inescapable cameras which are forever present all around us. They can be found on top of poles, on the façades of buildings, attached to the bus, perched atop of architectural architraves, nestled between columns, balancing in a nook, almost everywhere imaginable. While some are visible, exposed by their outer skins, some are far more deceptive, their identities concealed, blending in with the architecture, acting nonchalantly like there could be no possible use to their purpose. But, regardless of their attributes, the one thing they all have in common is a voracious appetite to record whatever comes within its angle of view.
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