Taking pictures of people taking pictures of cherry blossoms

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Yesterday after work, I biked over to High Park with a few friends to take in the annual blooming of the cherry blossom trees in the park. I had been warned that it was going to be a sea of people below to match the sea of blossoms above, and the warnings were right. But we managed to find a clear spot under a tree that had exploded into soft, pink petals and set out our picnic.

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There may have been more cell phone cameras and selfie-sticks in High Park than cherry blossoms, actually. It feels almost boring and old-man-yells-at-cloudish of me to even point this out, but there is something lost in these moments of great natural beauty when so much of our experience of them takes place not through our own five senses but within the tiny, microscopic pixels on our iPhones. Do we even look at all the photos that we take?

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But then again, as you can see, I did what everyone else was doing. I whipped out my phone and started snapping pictures of the blossoms and the general scene before me. And there were really two scenes going on. One was the blossoms themselves, which were stunning and delicate, but the other was the people and their cameras, which were weird and hilarious.

And so I found myself taking pictures of people taking pictures of the blossoms.

Like people taking pictures of blossoms with nice cameras.

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People taking their bloomin’ selfies. So many selfies.

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People working in teams to make damn sure they get every angle covered.

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So if you can, go to High Park to see the cherry blossoms. Or the people taking pictures of the cherry blossoms. Either way, it’s surreal.

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