Waffles Head I love this photo, but it is not perfect. In fact, I took it to my photography class tonight and my teacher said it didn't work for him. It doesn't matter. I could look at it for hours and it's the imperfections that attract me -- the movement, the blur, the white space, the lack of detail. Perhaps it's because I see what isn't apparent. I see Waffles staring off into the distance, into the emptiness, into the white. I see her separateness, or independence, her alien interaction with the world. There is a distance I cannot bridge, a space, a boundary between photographer and subject, between human and dog. She is her own creature, she sees something I can't see. Her back is to me, her face is to her tomorrow. I see her fur, the lines that form her, the way the light caresses her. I see that she will not be still and frozen by my camera. I am drawn to this picture not because it is perfect, not because of the bond between us. I am drawn to this picture because it is imperfect and full of life and movement. I am drawn to this picture because it and its subject cannot be tamed by me.