For some reason ripping a photo up always seems like a sacrilegious act - it's as if you're harming whoever is in the photograph. Even when I used to get my film processed at Boots long before digital photography, I'd never destroy those blurry, half black photos you were guaranteed to get back. There's something magical about the chance happening of their occurrence. In fact, there's probably a whole new blog to be created of abstract images and Gerhard Richter-esque blurred shots of nothing...Anyway, this photo was found in The Whitgift Centre, Croydon. I always wonder what this person did to have their face ripped in half...
