I LOVE dark rooms! When you walk into it, you start falling over and tripping over furniture. It is a real laugh to be watching the person who walks in and falls and trips with night vision goggles, so you can laugh and laugh, but they can’t figure out who it was!!!
inside this dark room i feel so alone.
is that such a bad thing?
is anyone really ever alone? i have myself, after all. and thats really all i will ever have.
for the rest of my life. friends, family, lovers, pets, imaginary people, they all come and go. the one thing that will hold constant in this dark room of life is the fact that i will always have myself.
that’s a comforting thought.
Darkrooms are made usually made to develop photos in they can be very useful they are weird and now a days rare because now we have digital cameras and computers.
Darkroom. It’s pitch black. I give my eyes time to adjust. The stillness is uncomfortable. How can no light escape the cracks in the door, beneath the door. The door knob will not budge. What do I do? It’s opressive. I am suffocating.
For years we had made plans – all the things we were to do together once you retired. Now, only two years on and you are, as usual, in your darkroom, and I’m out here in my writing shed. I haven’t seen you since breakfast. It’s now 10 pm!
In the dark room, only one exists: the dark one. He resides there alone, as he likes it, and plots his revenge on all who have betrayed him. Beware of the darkroom, for f you enter, you will never return.
A dark room can be a scary place for most or even a room full of possibilities. With a good enough imagintaion it could be a magical palace or a mythical forest. For other is sets fear into them bc it could be a dungeon or a place or torture. A darkroom is nothing but a darkroom.
Darkroom. We meet again. My hands grasp your hips, waist, ribcage, furtive, quiet. My elbow knocks something glass from the shelf to the ground. I lift you up onto the bench. Lunch.
One room. So many possibilities. It’s almost quaint, like ink blotches and other slip-of-the-tongue tests. Too bad I’m strictly thinking on task. Its a story to be carried out in a darkroom which it leads me back into another story, which goes back to another story, which is a play on another story…funny how its always dark and never ends…
cold in the darkroom everything is black and the shadow tell us to be quiet. I’ll develop the film when i have time. and the m ahybe i’ll have some coffee to wash down the shame. HORRIBLEW shame! i’ll be alone the and everything will be allright.
a darkroom. a developing room. a place where you develop memories. pictures. recollections. life is a darkroom, where you gather collected memories and hang them in front of you by strings. some are forgotten for other, more aesthetic pictures. some hold a lot of importance to you. some hold none. they all depict your life, and they all hang by the same string strung around the room. a darkroom.
I really wish you’d stop making me write about the darkroom. While it’s an intriguing subject, I resent the disappointment that I feel each time I click the “go” button, waiting for a new word, and see this one all over again.
He hovered over the images in the darkroom, scrutinizing each one intently, restlessly searching for the perfect detail. He could see nothing but the translucent stares of strangers, illuminated by the faintest of infrared glows, and the outline of his own rough fingers as he sifted through the frames.
I look around searching for that glimpse, not the light but of him. I know he glows…no I know he gleams. Why do I not see him…why is he not brightening this dark room. I understand now…his gleam is no longer seen.
In the darkroom, the images came to life. Moments captured forever by the lens of his camera. Frozen forever on the paper being developed. This was the magic, this was the reason he loved photography.
photography is one of my many passions… although i don’t spend much time in a darkroom anymore (digital cameras and whatnot) the fire lives on inside of me. i prefer to take pictures of people, especially when they aren’t looking. it makes me feel mischievous. :)
He hovered over the negatives in his darkroom, closely examining each image, searching intently for the perfect shot. Bowls of rotting fruit, drool oozing from a dog’s mouth, a perfectly organized sock drawer. What was he looking for?
Darkrooms. Never been to one. They’re a place for developing pictures I hear. I don’t take many pictures these days. Well, I do, but it’s all digital now. I certainly don’t take anything with the merit to be developed in a darkroom.
light in the depth of what we’re feeling about everything and how we see the negatives without considering them as art yet, just pure, simple visions, concepts that we wished to see, we play god with our own thoughts to produce them as new life, to breathe into them feeling through which we are in a dark room
Sitting blindly in the basement, the darkness surrounded me, like an overwhelming force. Suddenly, I realized that there are some things in life that are completely out of our control, yet we should look at them from the opposite side in order to make the most out of what we’re dealt. Darkness can sometimes help us see. And life is not always as clear as we wish it would be.
in the darkroom i was developing a picture. i wasn’t sure what it would turn out to be. the image you have in your mind isn’t always what comes out on the paper. it’s always a surprise. i start to see the image. what will it be. im curious.
You left me in the darkroom, as I always knew you would. I can’t stop saying it. “I’m right. I’m right. I’m right. I’m always right.” I knew everything that would happen from the beginning and still, I said, “Fuck it.” And I’m still glad I did because I’m being broken into who I want to be.
Picture click snap sound. Quiet. Dark. Silence. I’ve never been in one but I like the red light – like a serial killer like a slasher flick like pictures absorbing life within all these strange colors. People complain outside of them – takes too much time.
“Darkroom”, will forever be synonymous with Beetlejuice, Tim Burton and AFI to me. Photography isn’t a skill of mine at all, all chopped off heads and blurry backgrounds. To me, it’s an uttering from a teenage, overly dramatic gothic girl, a memory of a favourite film, and a word in a song by a band who made my heart beat that much faster.
I want to hide alone in a dark room. Not the kind that develops pictures, just a dark room maybe a little black light in the back to give an eerie glow. Or a strobe light. that would be cool to, and then he would walk in and save me from the dark alone. Kiss me and run away happily ever after… I hate fantasies.
The darkness surrounded her as she waited for the colors and figures to take shape on the paper in front of her. She felt alone, but in a good way. The dark room held her in complete solitude.
darkroom… my teacher used to scare me abt that if i had not done my homework… il put u in the darkroom. it even reminds me of sex now. darkroom, should i not be thinking of photography where t
I know *why* I built the darkroom. But the reasons don’t bring back the money I wasted on a useless hobby. There’s nothing in the neighbourhood that has yet to be photographed. There is nothing I can create that people haven’t seen.
I remember smelling the chemicals as we worked together in the darkroom printing photos for the yearbook. You longing for someone else, me longing for you to notice me.
Photos are in the darkroom.
If they were of birds, it would be the larkroom.
If it had a slide- it’s the parkroom.
If this was a disaster, it would be a monsoon.
My Darkroom is my sanction, my church, my mosque, my cathedral. When I am drowned by the darkness in this room I am in my clearest state of mind. It is here that I become the person I am okay with being.
I LOVE dark rooms! When you walk into it, you start falling over and tripping over furniture. It is a real laugh to be watching the person who walks in and falls and trips with night vision goggles, so you can laugh and laugh, but they can’t figure out who it was!!!
A dark room is a place where there is no lights, is what I’m guessing! Or is painted all black! Where you can’t see in front of you either.
inside this dark room i feel so alone.
is that such a bad thing?
is anyone really ever alone? i have myself, after all. and thats really all i will ever have.
for the rest of my life. friends, family, lovers, pets, imaginary people, they all come and go. the one thing that will hold constant in this dark room of life is the fact that i will always have myself.
that’s a comforting thought.
i dont now what to say if all the shads are close and the ligths are off it is a darkroom
Darkrooms are made usually made to develop photos in they can be very useful they are weird and now a days rare because now we have digital cameras and computers.
you are in a dark small room and think you are going to die. you hear lots of noises and are very scared.
Darkroom. It’s pitch black. I give my eyes time to adjust. The stillness is uncomfortable. How can no light escape the cracks in the door, beneath the door. The door knob will not budge. What do I do? It’s opressive. I am suffocating.
A dark room could be a room that does not have light in it at all so it would be pitch black.
in a dark room you cant see any thing
dark room has room in the word
it also has dark in dark room
ark is in dark room
darkroom is a sintince it self
For years we had made plans – all the things we were to do together once you retired. Now, only two years on and you are, as usual, in your darkroom, and I’m out here in my writing shed. I haven’t seen you since breakfast. It’s now 10 pm!
candle light empty wooden floors no furniture cold quiet poor visibility low ceiling one window one door
place where you can rest and listen to silence. sometimes cold and dump. but usually fine and mysterious. can be romantic for couples and friends.
In the dark room, only one exists: the dark one. He resides there alone, as he likes it, and plots his revenge on all who have betrayed him. Beware of the darkroom, for f you enter, you will never return.
I was in a darkroom once, right, and it was all like dark and shit, and then I thought, hold on, why don’t i just pop the fucking light on. So i did.
A dark room can be a scary place for most or even a room full of possibilities. With a good enough imagintaion it could be a magical palace or a mythical forest. For other is sets fear into them bc it could be a dungeon or a place or torture. A darkroom is nothing but a darkroom.
Darkroom. We meet again. My hands grasp your hips, waist, ribcage, furtive, quiet. My elbow knocks something glass from the shelf to the ground. I lift you up onto the bench. Lunch.
One room. So many possibilities. It’s almost quaint, like ink blotches and other slip-of-the-tongue tests. Too bad I’m strictly thinking on task. Its a story to be carried out in a darkroom which it leads me back into another story, which goes back to another story, which is a play on another story…funny how its always dark and never ends…
cold in the darkroom everything is black and the shadow tell us to be quiet. I’ll develop the film when i have time. and the m ahybe i’ll have some coffee to wash down the shame. HORRIBLEW shame! i’ll be alone the and everything will be allright.
a darkroom. a developing room. a place where you develop memories. pictures. recollections. life is a darkroom, where you gather collected memories and hang them in front of you by strings. some are forgotten for other, more aesthetic pictures. some hold a lot of importance to you. some hold none. they all depict your life, and they all hang by the same string strung around the room. a darkroom.
I really wish you’d stop making me write about the darkroom. While it’s an intriguing subject, I resent the disappointment that I feel each time I click the “go” button, waiting for a new word, and see this one all over again.
He hovered over the images in the darkroom, scrutinizing each one intently, restlessly searching for the perfect detail. He could see nothing but the translucent stares of strangers, illuminated by the faintest of infrared glows, and the outline of his own rough fingers as he sifted through the frames.
I look around searching for that glimpse, not the light but of him. I know he glows…no I know he gleams. Why do I not see him…why is he not brightening this dark room. I understand now…his gleam is no longer seen.
In the darkroom, the images came to life. Moments captured forever by the lens of his camera. Frozen forever on the paper being developed. This was the magic, this was the reason he loved photography.
photography is one of my many passions… although i don’t spend much time in a darkroom anymore (digital cameras and whatnot) the fire lives on inside of me. i prefer to take pictures of people, especially when they aren’t looking. it makes me feel mischievous. :)
He hovered over the negatives in his darkroom, closely examining each image, searching intently for the perfect shot. Bowls of rotting fruit, drool oozing from a dog’s mouth, a perfectly organized sock drawer. What was he looking for?
Darkrooms. Never been to one. They’re a place for developing pictures I hear. I don’t take many pictures these days. Well, I do, but it’s all digital now. I certainly don’t take anything with the merit to be developed in a darkroom.
light in the depth of what we’re feeling about everything and how we see the negatives without considering them as art yet, just pure, simple visions, concepts that we wished to see, we play god with our own thoughts to produce them as new life, to breathe into them feeling through which we are in a dark room
a darkroom to develop pictures
when the sun goes down especially in the country instead of the city, the whole house is one huge dark room of darkness
Sitting blindly in the basement, the darkness surrounded me, like an overwhelming force. Suddenly, I realized that there are some things in life that are completely out of our control, yet we should look at them from the opposite side in order to make the most out of what we’re dealt. Darkness can sometimes help us see. And life is not always as clear as we wish it would be.
in the darkroom i was developing a picture. i wasn’t sure what it would turn out to be. the image you have in your mind isn’t always what comes out on the paper. it’s always a surprise. i start to see the image. what will it be. im curious.
You left me in the darkroom, as I always knew you would. I can’t stop saying it. “I’m right. I’m right. I’m right. I’m always right.” I knew everything that would happen from the beginning and still, I said, “Fuck it.” And I’m still glad I did because I’m being broken into who I want to be.
Picture click snap sound. Quiet. Dark. Silence. I’ve never been in one but I like the red light – like a serial killer like a slasher flick like pictures absorbing life within all these strange colors. People complain outside of them – takes too much time.
“Darkroom”, will forever be synonymous with Beetlejuice, Tim Burton and AFI to me. Photography isn’t a skill of mine at all, all chopped off heads and blurry backgrounds. To me, it’s an uttering from a teenage, overly dramatic gothic girl, a memory of a favourite film, and a word in a song by a band who made my heart beat that much faster.
I want to hide alone in a dark room. Not the kind that develops pictures, just a dark room maybe a little black light in the back to give an eerie glow. Or a strobe light. that would be cool to, and then he would walk in and save me from the dark alone. Kiss me and run away happily ever after… I hate fantasies.
The darkness surrounded her as she waited for the colors and figures to take shape on the paper in front of her. She felt alone, but in a good way. The dark room held her in complete solitude.
darkroom… my teacher used to scare me abt that if i had not done my homework… il put u in the darkroom. it even reminds me of sex now. darkroom, should i not be thinking of photography where t
I know *why* I built the darkroom. But the reasons don’t bring back the money I wasted on a useless hobby. There’s nothing in the neighbourhood that has yet to be photographed. There is nothing I can create that people haven’t seen.
I remember smelling the chemicals as we worked together in the darkroom printing photos for the yearbook. You longing for someone else, me longing for you to notice me.
Photos are in the darkroom.
If they were of birds, it would be the larkroom.
If it had a slide- it’s the parkroom.
If this was a disaster, it would be a monsoon.
My Darkroom is my sanction, my church, my mosque, my cathedral. When I am drowned by the darkness in this room I am in my clearest state of mind. It is here that I become the person I am okay with being.