Photographer Lee Ka-sing calls this white, blue-rimmed disc a moon and he should know, but Lee is also a poet and a photographic necromancer and neuromancer, and for all I know, his bright, flanged moon might well be the light glaring down from a dentist's chair. You all know how poetry hides out in a million unlikely places.
For myself, I saw the moon-object as an occlusion-in- progress, so long as I am able to disregard the tense Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of occlusion as "a shutting off or obstruction of something, a coronary occlusion; especially: a blocking of the central passage of one reflex by the passage of another."
The photo at the right? Here comes the rain--nice, eh? Though of course it could be a rain of hieroglyphic marks. Or the edge of an airborne player-piano roll, pounding out the music of the spheres.
