It's spring after all. Both the calendar and the sight outside the window make it clear—spring, no matter what. That means I need to go and get a haircut. It's normal to change my hair with the seasons. Which I do exactly twice a year. You'd think it couldn't be simpler? You go, sit down on a stool, the clippers whir—done, fresh air blows across your stale head. Not so. In case you haven't noticed, regular hair salons are gone. Now they're all SALONS. Salons-hairdressers, or even barber shops, forgive the lack of light. Even if it's in a plastic kiosk next to one selling seedlings, fertilizer, and stationery. I even tried going to one of those "salons"... Do you need a haircut? Mona, I'll book you in for next week. Wow! I immediately feel like a Hollywood star, a socialite, a social tiger (a kangaroo, a monkey, and a hippopotamus). And they'll style me. But in a week. - Can't it be quicker and easier? - No, we're a salon here, and everyone is by appointment. And how is a salon different from a regular hair salon? The price tag, the guys, the price tag! If you'd get a Canadian haircut in my day, it would be 200 rubles, but if you're at a salon, it's 1,500.
But there were people, there were people... In my dejection, I stumbled upon a salon... somewhere so remote that even the sunlight doesn't reach. I stick my shaggy head in the reception area (there is one) - can I just fool around? Of course, says the girl at reception, who's also the hairdresser. How are we going to cut it? Zero, I say, with a nozzle. The girl whines, "Oh my, such hair, maybe it's a trendy hairstyle." "No," I reply, mindful of salon prices, "only with an attachment." The girl sighs and blunts the clipper against me. I shed the excess fur and got off with a little… lucky me.
I don't mind your feelings and reactions. Some people could learn from your politeness.
Wow, Vakhtang, how cleverly you've outwitted your opponents. I'm torn between envy and... torn again. Such a reaction, such a discussion... That's it! It's decided! The girls are heading away from the forest; I'm moving on to vareniki. Will you give a master class? Where should I begin? I'm watching (like a fool) photo analysis by leading photographers. In particular, it was said that a photo should be accompanied by a description—what's in the frame, how, and why—so that the viewer doesn't have their own silly confusion, but clearly understands the action and essence of the photograph. Now that's where you've hit the nail on the head—where's the recipe? How much of what to add, how long to knead, the nuances, the subtleties. Oh, Vakhtang... you're hiding your mastery. The guys don't know, and you're making fun of us, the idiots. Vakhtang, be more generous and reveal a few secrets
Vakhtang Bartaia, Wow, Vakhtang, how cleverly you've outdone your opponents. I'm bursting with envy and... bursting again. Such a reaction, such a discussion... That's it! It's decided! The girls are heading away from the forest, I'm moving on to vareniki. Will you give a master class? Where do I begin? I've been watching (like a fool) photo analysis sessions from leading photographers. In particular, it was said that a photo should be accompanied by a description—what's in the frame, how, and why—so that the viewer doesn't have their own silly confusion, but clearly understands the action and essence of the photograph. This is where you break it down—where's the recipe? How much of what to add, how long to knead, the nuances, the subtleties. Oh, Vakhtang... you're hiding your mastery. The guys don't know anything, and you're making fun of us, the simpletons. Vakhtang, be more generous – reveal a few secrets
Backwoods, Good evening, Backwoods! What – no one to talk to again? You want to drag me into "provocations" again. These were unplanned publications, an attempt to stray a little from the beaten landscape path. Don't tell me about my skill here. You've already expressed your attitude toward my "skill" more than once... I'll be more generous, as you ask, but in relation to you. I was the first to like your text accompanying the photo. You are a very TALENTED writer. I think you have no equal on this site. "How the Photographer Got His Haircut" is (like the pyramid - "The Photographer's Daily Life") a real, albeit small, work. I'm already starting to think about which writers I should pair you with. So don't say I'm ignoring you (despite everything you've written to me before). Keep going; I'm sure I'm not the only one who enjoys reading your posts. They're often so self-sufficient that you don't even need to attach a photo. And this time, I liked the photo (it's a shame there are no recommendations for now, but it's only a matter of time). So go ahead, write, take pictures, make people happy... P.S. Try engaging someone else in the discussions. I'm not particularly eager to correspond, but I promise to keep an eye on your work. I hope you'll take my reply well.
Good evening, Backwoods! What, no one to talk to again?
Well, I confess, yes... no one. I used to have someone to talk to, but he disappeared for political reasons. You're a kind man, Vakhtang. Of course, I don't care about skill; I have my own preferences, no idols, no canons. As we culinary experts say, you can eat anything if you salt it well. Salt is exactly what I need. Honey and sugar are enough, but salts – no. Did I accept your answer well enough?
Vakhtang Bartaia, Well, I confess, yes... there's no one to talk to. I used to have someone to talk to, but he dropped out for political reasons. You're a kind man, Vakhtang. Of course, I don't care about skill; I have my own preferences, no idols, no canons. As we culinary experts say, "You can eat anything if you salt it well." Salt is what I'm missing. Honey and sugar are plenty, but salt—nothing. Did I accept your answer kindly enough?
Backwoods, Kindly enough if you know who you're dealing with. It's good that when listing what you don't have, you didn't write "nothing sacred." That gives me hope. So don't despair: we'll talk again!
Backwoods, It's kind enough if you know who you're dealing with. It's good that when listing what you don't have, you didn't write "nothing sacred." That gives me hope. So don't despair: we'll talk later!
Vakhtang, what are you talking about? What sacred? Are you crazy? Where in these discussions, with their thrice-uninteresting photos, is there anything sacred? What the hell is anyone giving you here? You'll at least be able to comprehend what you write. Vakhtang, it's simpler – don't sing songs to mediocre photos. You need to sing along to my masterpieces, don't you get it? Sing me sweet songs. And I'll start giving you back. That's how it works.
Vakhtang Bartaia, Backwoods, It's kind enough if you know who you're dealing with. It's good that when listing what you don't have, you didn't write "nothing sacred." That gives me hope. So don't despair: we'll talk later! Vakhtang, what are you talking about? What sacred? Are you crazy? Where in these discussions, with their thrice-uninteresting photos, is there anything sacred? What the hell is anyone giving you here? You'll at least be able to comprehend what you write. Vakhtang, it's simpler – don't sing songs to mediocre photos. You need to sing along to my masterpieces, don't you get it? Sing me sweet things. And I'll start giving you back. That's how it works.
Backwoods, It seems like "the whole Bible is a piece of cake." Judging by your reaction, you misunderstood me, or I'm missing something. I "sing songs" to the works I like, regardless of their "passability." It's hard for you to notice. Besides being a writer, you have a talent for burning bridges, even those that haven't been built yet. Feedback? I don't need that kind of "happiness"! I've been through this with you before. That's NOT how it works.
Backwoods, It seems like "the whole Bible is a piece of cake." Judging by your reaction, you misunderstood me or I'm missing something. I "sing songs" to the works I like, regardless of their "passability." It's hard for you to notice. Besides being a writer, you have a talent for burning bridges, even those that haven't been built yet. Feedback? I don't need that kind of "happiness"! I've already been through this with you. That's NOT how it works.
The Bible is a complicated thing; don't mess with it. You need to understand it. With your brain, that's unlikely. You see, burning bridges over such losers is normal practice. There's no need to have connections (bridges) with incompetent people. It works, bro, the feedback loop—you're so stubborn about your dumplings—that's why it works. You shot crap, they told you it was crap. No, let's drag it out, like, where's the process and no fucking way. You shot crap, Vakhtang. It's a shame the dumb class supports it. Well, that's your lot, the dumb drag you along, you're successful. Of course, it's envy. You used to work with a model... and then... she shot some dumplings, stupidly, out of focus—and there you have it—a good photo. Vakhtang, are you sane? You're great, Vakhtang, great! Respect!
It's spring after all. Both the calendar and the sight outside the window make it clear—spring, no matter what. That means I need to go and get a haircut. It's normal to change my hair with the seasons. Which I do exactly twice a year.
You'd think it couldn't be simpler? You go, sit down on a stool, the clippers whir—done, fresh air blows across your stale head. Not so.
In case you haven't noticed, regular hair salons are gone. Now they're all SALONS. Salons-hairdressers, or even barber shops, forgive the lack of light. Even if it's in a plastic kiosk next to one selling seedlings, fertilizer, and stationery.
I even tried going to one of those "salons"... Do you need a haircut? Mona, I'll book you in for next week. Wow! I immediately feel like a Hollywood star, a socialite, a social tiger (a kangaroo, a monkey, and a hippopotamus). And they'll style me. But in a week.
- Can't it be quicker and easier?
- No, we're a salon here, and everyone is by appointment.
And how is a salon different from a regular hair salon? The price tag, the guys, the price tag! If you'd get a Canadian haircut in my day, it would be 200 rubles, but if you're at a salon, it's 1,500.
But there were people, there were people... In my dejection, I stumbled upon a salon... somewhere so remote that even the sunlight doesn't reach. I stick my shaggy head in the reception area (there is one) - can I just fool around? Of course, says the girl at reception, who's also the hairdresser. How are we going to cut it? Zero, I say, with a nozzle. The girl whines, "Oh my, such hair, maybe it's a trendy hairstyle." "No," I reply, mindful of salon prices, "only with an attachment." The girl sighs and blunts the clipper against me. I shed the excess fur and got off with a little… lucky me.
That's how we live...
That's it! It's decided! The girls are heading away from the forest; I'm moving on to vareniki. Will you give a master class? Where should I begin?
I'm watching (like a fool) photo analysis by leading photographers. In particular, it was said that a photo should be accompanied by a description—what's in the frame, how, and why—so that the viewer doesn't have their own silly confusion, but clearly understands the action and essence of the photograph. Now that's where you've hit the nail on the head—where's the recipe? How much of what to add, how long to knead, the nuances, the subtleties.
Oh, Vakhtang... you're hiding your mastery. The guys don't know, and you're making fun of us, the idiots. Vakhtang, be more generous and reveal a few secrets
I'll be more generous, as you ask, but in relation to you. I was the first to like your text accompanying the photo. You are a very TALENTED writer. I think you have no equal on this site. "How the Photographer Got His Haircut" is (like the pyramid - "The Photographer's Daily Life") a real, albeit small, work. I'm already starting to think about which writers I should pair you with. So don't say I'm ignoring you (despite everything you've written to me before). Keep going; I'm sure I'm not the only one who enjoys reading your posts. They're often so self-sufficient that you don't even need to attach a photo. And this time, I liked the photo (it's a shame there are no recommendations for now, but it's only a matter of time). So go ahead, write, take pictures, make people happy...
P.S. Try engaging someone else in the discussions. I'm not particularly eager to correspond, but I promise to keep an eye on your work.
I hope you'll take my reply well.
You're a kind man, Vakhtang. Of course, I don't care about skill; I have my own preferences, no idols, no canons. As we culinary experts say, you can eat anything if you salt it well. Salt is exactly what I need. Honey and sugar are enough, but salts – no.
Did I accept your answer well enough?
Vakhtang, it's simpler – don't sing songs to mediocre photos. You need to sing along to my masterpieces, don't you get it?
Sing me sweet songs. And I'll start giving you back. That's how it works.
I "sing songs" to the works I like, regardless of their "passability." It's hard for you to notice.
Besides being a writer, you have a talent for burning bridges, even those that haven't been built yet.
Feedback? I don't need that kind of "happiness"! I've been through this with you before. That's NOT how it works.
You see, burning bridges over such losers is normal practice. There's no need to have connections (bridges) with incompetent people. It works, bro, the feedback loop—you're so stubborn about your dumplings—that's why it works. You shot crap, they told you it was crap. No, let's drag it out, like, where's the process and no fucking way.
You shot crap, Vakhtang. It's a shame the dumb class supports it. Well, that's your lot, the dumb drag you along, you're successful.
Of course, it's envy. You used to work with a model... and then... she shot some dumplings, stupidly, out of focus—and there you have it—a good photo. Vakhtang, are you sane?
You're great, Vakhtang, great! Respect!