i will never forget sitting out hurricane Charlie in a dark room because it was the safest place to protect yourself from a hurricane. We are in there for about three hours with a candle and a battery operated radio. The best thing is that we did feel safe there and the hurricane passed us by.
i hadn’t thought about it in awhile. it was strange. this darkness shed light on so many things in my life. the pictures slowly developed. developed in stages. steady very calculated stages. how similar, i thought, i very similar was this process to me life. but not quite too similar. and when i left the darkroom back into real life, the brightness scared me.
they used to scare me. those red lights with the eerie photos hanging form the clothes lines. ugh perfect murder scene if there ever was one. but what was worse than the darkroom was the really really dark room where you would take the film and load it on a reel. i would get so frustrated and panicky, the film would always fall to the ground and id be on my hands and knees searching for it. that’s why all my developed pictures, no matter how great the composition or subject matter was, would always have hairs and dust particles on them.
there is this dark room and then sam from supernatural walks in. he sees this baby there and it has these red eyes and he is wondering well WHY aren’t these red eyes lighting up the room?! and then the baby starts to sing baby by justin beiber and his red eyes are activated. suddenly sam freaks out and finally notices he is standing in a dark room. he is really scared of the dark so is like BABY can you turn up your red eyes higher? the baby freaks out and does what he tells him.
alone in a dark room i have time to think. its warm in my bed but my nose is cold. i block out the light of my digital clock and close the blinds and try to find sleep. i wish i were hibernating for one thousand years.
Last night, I was laying in my dark room. I heard the rain outside and I became frightened. Then I started to cry because my brother started talking about killing things in his sleep. It was a weird night. For sure.
There is more than you could possibly imagine in there. There is nothing but possibility; nothing but fear. How can one place be so full of promise and hate. How can she stand to sit in there all day long and not see the light coming from beneath the doorjam? How long must we suffer on the otherside, knowing she is killing herself slowly; letting herself see the imaginary…and not living in the real.
“I hope you realize what they’re doing in the darkroom.”
She said emphatically, her eyes widening.
“Some people call it love, some say sex, but the truth is, it’s two teens f,”
with that he grabbed her face, stared intensly into her deep green eyes and gave her the softest kiss she had ever had. So slight she could barely tell if it was his lips brushing hers or if the electricity between them was so strong that there was no need for actually touch.
Here I sit in a dark room, or is it a darkroom? I don’t have any pictures to develop, nor has this situation developed the way I wanted it to, honestly. Where is my mind when I’m thinking about dark rooms? Am I in the dark? It seems so, honestly, but soon I shall see the light. If I was to develop a picture, however, I definitely don’t have any tools with which to do this and I am entirely lacking in knowledge to carry out this task. That’s too bad; it’s not like I can see anyway.
Darkroom?! I thought this thing was daily! What a disappointment! I did darkroom yesterday ): Now my soul feels like a darkroom. Thanks a lot oneword.com. :”””(
A room for developing pictures. My high school never had one, so we could only take a digital photography class. My friends at the public school could take film photography because it had a dark room. Now they go to art school.
closet, flashlight, hinderance, escaping, having sex in secret, haunting movie, dark carpet, hiding from the light, hands over face, personal space, solitary confinement, not enough resources to support a an environment with light,
Darkrooms are amazing places where photographers can bring their visions to life. Darkrooms have waned in popularity with the rise of digital photography but still remain iconic to art enthusiasts everywhere.
is what my brother made out of our bathroom when I was a girl. he’d block out all the light and then put his photography equipment – actually the developing stuff into the shower stall and then go at it… sounds very sexual as I write this. I won’t mention what he did in the lanudry room.
hA! Well I don’t know what you know about this but I KNOW about this. Too bad I don’t have time to actually get in one. I had been having my negatives developed but now…. I have them printed too. OH how I miss the good ol days! I don’t want to make the transition. But it will happen one way or the other. So I better get on with it too.
The red light lit up the developing photos as they hung out to dry. I hunched over one with a magnifying glass. There was something in this photo that just wasn’t right, but I couldn’t place me finger on it. The shadows seemed…off, and the image was not one I remember taking.
In the darkroom of their local community college, he turned to her with his usual sweet smile. The one that made her swoon with emotion, turn bright red with embarrassment and giggle with excitement. She was the only girl he girl he looked at like that.
Its cold and dark, and I’m alone. All alone. I can hear myself scream for help but no ones coming, no one can hear me. The insects crawl near to the only warm thing in this dark room. Me. What should I do. Ill be forever stuck here in this darkroom.
so i was in the darkroom developing my photos and i was all alone. suddenly i hear a noise outside the room. i quickly locked the door because i knew that no one should be there.
place with no lights, very scary. might have some monster in it or maybe ghosts. you can see a cat in it or something. could be a great place to have sex in. want ot turn light on. maybe or something.
this has already been picked as a word for me before so i do not know what to write, and i thought it said 60 MINUTES not seconds, so i was writing my other story for a very long while until i scrolled down to see if there was some sort of timer. shocked to see TIME’S UP, i tested to see if this had always been there and this was some sort of scam. I don’t know what to think now, but this is a great concept for a website.
the last time i saw her, she was lying alone, spanning the bed, in a slightly dark room. the shadows from the moon outside danced across her silhouette gently, and i admired the way the blanket hugged her body. it had been eight days since she had used any smack. those eight days had been long, but nothing compared to an eternity of being high, the chase, struggling to get by. all of us were exhausted trying to keep up with this destructive creature. we were hoping she could quit for good this time. but still, the drug seemed to speak to her, possess her thoughts, coiling slowly around her spine like a snake and speak. however, at least she was giving it a try. for all those people who cared. or if not, only for herself.
its cold as a tomb, and its dark in your room. Its always dark in mine. Yes, without you there. Youre far away…so so far away from me now. Youre lovely, so lovely. You smell of October. I smell of spring.
she sat, waiting, calling, hoping for the man who would not show. friends until the end, no. lovers, no. but she would wait. his happiness meant the world, even if she wasn’t in it. he was her hope, the safe light in her darkroom.
there you were. In the room where we last were. Alone, tire. Tired of all of this really. I had you once and i swore I wouldnt loose you again. Not again she pleaded.
There was a darkroom in which there were two young boys that were laid down in the grass that grew there. Grass in a dark room seemed strange to these two boys but who was to say that grass didn’t grow in the dark. They grew in the dark, their bones lengthening and strengthening but they didn’t need the light. Supposedly, the grass needed light. But who knew.
In the darkroom everything I want is there, everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything but the one that matters, do I stay or leave? Choices. Something smells bad, time to go.
She was sitting in the darkroom, crying. Her pictures were gorgeous, even she knew this. The only thing stopping her from going far in this world was her family’s income. She loved photography, she loved making people smile, she loved seeing the shock in others faces when she showed them something amazing. But, she couldn’t have it.
I like dark rooms. It’x the only way I can sleep. Dark, cold rooms. Cloudy evenings just before dusk. ceiling fan is the only sound. feels good. I like it. I stay in a dark room whenever I have a headache.
I sat on the floor, giving my mother a sorry look. Her fingers splashed in the developing liquid. The sound was harsh. I bent my head and heard her say something. But… why couldn’t I hear? Why couldn’t I hear her? Oh. My mother wasn’t here anymore. I wish she was. I want that one last picture.
I have always wanted a nice camera, but I’ve never been able to afford anything but little digitals that are always broken by my younger siblings within a matter of days. I would like to try developing pics with a camera in a DARKROOM.
processing film in the darkroom
i wonder why we even have
these lights above us
guiding us
hiding us
from the true dark beneath
there’s nothing left to wonder
just ponder alone
without guidance
in the dark.
i will never forget sitting out hurricane Charlie in a dark room because it was the safest place to protect yourself from a hurricane. We are in there for about three hours with a candle and a battery operated radio. The best thing is that we did feel safe there and the hurricane passed us by.
i hadn’t thought about it in awhile. it was strange. this darkness shed light on so many things in my life. the pictures slowly developed. developed in stages. steady very calculated stages. how similar, i thought, i very similar was this process to me life. but not quite too similar. and when i left the darkroom back into real life, the brightness scared me.
they used to scare me. those red lights with the eerie photos hanging form the clothes lines. ugh perfect murder scene if there ever was one. but what was worse than the darkroom was the really really dark room where you would take the film and load it on a reel. i would get so frustrated and panicky, the film would always fall to the ground and id be on my hands and knees searching for it. that’s why all my developed pictures, no matter how great the composition or subject matter was, would always have hairs and dust particles on them.
there is this dark room and then sam from supernatural walks in. he sees this baby there and it has these red eyes and he is wondering well WHY aren’t these red eyes lighting up the room?! and then the baby starts to sing baby by justin beiber and his red eyes are activated. suddenly sam freaks out and finally notices he is standing in a dark room. he is really scared of the dark so is like BABY can you turn up your red eyes higher? the baby freaks out and does what he tells him.
alone in a dark room i have time to think. its warm in my bed but my nose is cold. i block out the light of my digital clock and close the blinds and try to find sleep. i wish i were hibernating for one thousand years.
Last night, I was laying in my dark room. I heard the rain outside and I became frightened. Then I started to cry because my brother started talking about killing things in his sleep. It was a weird night. For sure.
There is more than you could possibly imagine in there. There is nothing but possibility; nothing but fear. How can one place be so full of promise and hate. How can she stand to sit in there all day long and not see the light coming from beneath the doorjam? How long must we suffer on the otherside, knowing she is killing herself slowly; letting herself see the imaginary…and not living in the real.
“I hope you realize what they’re doing in the darkroom.”
She said emphatically, her eyes widening.
“Some people call it love, some say sex, but the truth is, it’s two teens f,”
with that he grabbed her face, stared intensly into her deep green eyes and gave her the softest kiss she had ever had. So slight she could barely tell if it was his lips brushing hers or if the electricity between them was so strong that there was no need for actually touch.
Here I sit in a dark room, or is it a darkroom? I don’t have any pictures to develop, nor has this situation developed the way I wanted it to, honestly. Where is my mind when I’m thinking about dark rooms? Am I in the dark? It seems so, honestly, but soon I shall see the light. If I was to develop a picture, however, I definitely don’t have any tools with which to do this and I am entirely lacking in knowledge to carry out this task. That’s too bad; it’s not like I can see anyway.
Negative. Exposed. Keystoned. Lean closer and see through my soft focus. Learn how it feels to evaporate.
Darkroom?! I thought this thing was daily! What a disappointment! I did darkroom yesterday ): Now my soul feels like a darkroom. Thanks a lot oneword.com. :”””(
In the darkroom there was something. No one knew what it was. It kept getting darker.. darker.. and DARKER.. Only one person knew what it was.
scary.
A room for developing pictures. My high school never had one, so we could only take a digital photography class. My friends at the public school could take film photography because it had a dark room. Now they go to art school.
closet, flashlight, hinderance, escaping, having sex in secret, haunting movie, dark carpet, hiding from the light, hands over face, personal space, solitary confinement, not enough resources to support a an environment with light,
Darkrooms are amazing places where photographers can bring their visions to life. Darkrooms have waned in popularity with the rise of digital photography but still remain iconic to art enthusiasts everywhere.
is what my brother made out of our bathroom when I was a girl. he’d block out all the light and then put his photography equipment – actually the developing stuff into the shower stall and then go at it… sounds very sexual as I write this. I won’t mention what he did in the lanudry room.
hA! Well I don’t know what you know about this but I KNOW about this. Too bad I don’t have time to actually get in one. I had been having my negatives developed but now…. I have them printed too. OH how I miss the good ol days! I don’t want to make the transition. But it will happen one way or the other. So I better get on with it too.
The red light lit up the developing photos as they hung out to dry. I hunched over one with a magnifying glass. There was something in this photo that just wasn’t right, but I couldn’t place me finger on it. The shadows seemed…off, and the image was not one I remember taking.
In the darkroom of their local community college, he turned to her with his usual sweet smile. The one that made her swoon with emotion, turn bright red with embarrassment and giggle with excitement. She was the only girl he girl he looked at like that.
i’m here, alone. Where are you? You left, i need you. I had never felt this, i know it’s too late you’re gone, but i want you.
Its cold and dark, and I’m alone. All alone. I can hear myself scream for help but no ones coming, no one can hear me. The insects crawl near to the only warm thing in this dark room. Me. What should I do. Ill be forever stuck here in this darkroom.
so i was in the darkroom developing my photos and i was all alone. suddenly i hear a noise outside the room. i quickly locked the door because i knew that no one should be there.
place with no lights, very scary. might have some monster in it or maybe ghosts. you can see a cat in it or something. could be a great place to have sex in. want ot turn light on. maybe or something.
bed, thoughts, moon, you, kiss, clothes off, love.
this has already been picked as a word for me before so i do not know what to write, and i thought it said 60 MINUTES not seconds, so i was writing my other story for a very long while until i scrolled down to see if there was some sort of timer. shocked to see TIME’S UP, i tested to see if this had always been there and this was some sort of scam. I don’t know what to think now, but this is a great concept for a website.
the last time i saw her, she was lying alone, spanning the bed, in a slightly dark room. the shadows from the moon outside danced across her silhouette gently, and i admired the way the blanket hugged her body. it had been eight days since she had used any smack. those eight days had been long, but nothing compared to an eternity of being high, the chase, struggling to get by. all of us were exhausted trying to keep up with this destructive creature. we were hoping she could quit for good this time. but still, the drug seemed to speak to her, possess her thoughts, coiling slowly around her spine like a snake and speak. however, at least she was giving it a try. for all those people who cared. or if not, only for herself.
its cold as a tomb, and its dark in your room. Its always dark in mine. Yes, without you there. Youre far away…so so far away from me now. Youre lovely, so lovely. You smell of October. I smell of spring.
she sat, waiting, calling, hoping for the man who would not show. friends until the end, no. lovers, no. but she would wait. his happiness meant the world, even if she wasn’t in it. he was her hope, the safe light in her darkroom.
there you were. In the room where we last were. Alone, tire. Tired of all of this really. I had you once and i swore I wouldnt loose you again. Not again she pleaded.
There was a darkroom in which there were two young boys that were laid down in the grass that grew there. Grass in a dark room seemed strange to these two boys but who was to say that grass didn’t grow in the dark. They grew in the dark, their bones lengthening and strengthening but they didn’t need the light. Supposedly, the grass needed light. But who knew.
In the darkroom everything I want is there, everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything but the one that matters, do I stay or leave? Choices. Something smells bad, time to go.
She was sitting in the darkroom, crying. Her pictures were gorgeous, even she knew this. The only thing stopping her from going far in this world was her family’s income. She loved photography, she loved making people smile, she loved seeing the shock in others faces when she showed them something amazing. But, she couldn’t have it.
I like dark rooms. It’x the only way I can sleep. Dark, cold rooms. Cloudy evenings just before dusk. ceiling fan is the only sound. feels good. I like it. I stay in a dark room whenever I have a headache.
there’s no light
dark
developer
stop
fix
rinse
safe lights
can barely see
however safe
scissors in drawers
shut off the light
this is the darkroom.
I sat on the floor, giving my mother a sorry look. Her fingers splashed in the developing liquid. The sound was harsh. I bent my head and heard her say something. But… why couldn’t I hear? Why couldn’t I hear her? Oh. My mother wasn’t here anymore. I wish she was. I want that one last picture.
Eleven velveteens, seminal performers, locomotion, vodka, nebraska, semi/cold.
I have always wanted a nice camera, but I’ve never been able to afford anything but little digitals that are always broken by my younger siblings within a matter of days. I would like to try developing pics with a camera in a DARKROOM.
processing film in the darkroom
i wonder why we even have
these lights above us
guiding us
hiding us
from the true dark beneath
there’s nothing left to wonder
just ponder alone
without guidance
in the dark.
the dark room wasn’t scary; no, it was the opposite. i’ve never felt such peace and comfort in my life. is that a bad thing?