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Every photograph is a rebellion – the giving of permanence to moments that do not repeat. These representations are frozen, imperfect and yet it is these blemishes which establish something beyond what existed before. Each photo is a dissidence – a sly panegyric offering the universe more than it has given. At best they are an addition, silent contraband, but in elongating and distorting as they must, they can only exist at the margin of permission. Even serenity, we know, can be a revolt.