Equipment Notes: Hasselblad 907x50c with XCD 3.5/30 Anniversary Kit

I see condensation, and it makes me smile. It is a transformation – gas to a liquid; it also transforms – vapor into liquid. It is a change – from a gaseous state into liquid form. Condensation changes the surfaces on which it resides and the surfaces on which it forms. The windowpane, the car’s windshield, the can of soda, glasses in spectacles, and the camera lens, among others, are all changed. It also changes the objects that we see through it. Condensation on the camera lens and fogged glasses imbue images we capture or see with a dreamy glow.

I see condensation, and I think of the mysterious force that, despite being invisible, is palpably and has the power of rendering something previously hidden visible. I, like most others, walk around oblivious of many things. For example, though I can’t see a gaseous state of water, it nonetheless exists all around me, yet I only see it when the gaseous molecules tire of listlessly moving around, exhaust themselves and anxiously wait for a cold surface to rest on. Some vapors find solid surfaces merely 0.0001 mm or 0.1 µm in diameter and attach themselves to them, taking a leap of faith. They are lucky as these infinitesimally small surfaces are cloud condensation nuclei that eventually form massive clouds! While others must settle for far less – the windowpanes, soda cans, spectacles, and windshields!

I see condensation, and it reminds me that it can be a new beginning if I find myself in stressful situations, under pressure, or if someone takes something away from me. Take the speed of the vapor molecules away, and you get water or even ice! You increase the pressure on the vapor molecules and merely effectuate the same end – volume is reduced, and voila! You get the water again!

The transformed transforms others too. All you need to do is look through a window with condensation; everything looks abstract and impressionistic.

Look at the surroundings; without the transforming power of the condensation, the magic does not look like an impressionistic painting.

What appears to be barely visible rectangular shapes is the treasury building in downtown St Augustine.

And sometimes, the condensation both enhances and hides the message it obscures.

I see condensation, and I wonder. Do the water vapor molecules know what awaits them, where they come from, and where they are going? Do they ever realize that their ceaseless wandering may not amount to much, yet collectively it is the elixir of life as we know it? For without the water cycle, all will cease to exist. Are we like that too? Am I like that too? There is magic in the multitudes.

The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them,

And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?

Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,

(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper?

Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?

Song of Myself (1892 version)

Walt Whitman