Third week - and it is already discouraging. A week goes buy, waking up in the morning, in a daze, either after a dream that my psychiatrist will disapprove of or worse after a restless night, relentlessly devoid of any imagination. Third week, and I already feel the pressure of this project - a pressure of taking the camera daily and not finding a picture that is worth showing, that is worth a sequence, that is worth the words that will tell its story. Third week, and I am almost ready to stop counting and let it be - or start counting upwards in trimesters or quarters or human pregnancies. Because each day is like a smug opponent pushing the envelop, punching you in the insecurities and setting the bar higher, almost out of sight, where even persistence cannot reach. And in photography, the components can balance each other but not stand for each other - chasing technical perfection is like chasing a circle around is circumference, chasing aesthetic appeal is like dreaming of waking up, and chasing the perfect timing is like living in the future while being spaced in the present. And the last option of chasing the story - well, that's just a battle lost before it has even began - because the story is not to be chased but to be and to be lived!