Where blog headers compete for identity supremacy, dogs triumph over cymbals, and phone panoramas reveal the beautiful chaos hiding in plain sight
The Great "Last Beat" Header Collection
I was hunting for a new profile picture when I stumbled across my archive of "last beat" blog headers from the past. You know how it is—you start looking for one thing and end up in a rabbit hole of your own creative history.
These headers tell their own story: a white dog staring directly at the camera with that knowing look, a hooded figure against a sandy wall, white cows in a stark landscape, figure drawings scattered on a table, a street sweeper next to a vintage Vespa, cymbals catching light, and those iconic white stupas stretching into the distance.
I've always thought the cymbal header would be perfect and apt—there's something about that golden reflection and the promise of sound that feels right for a creative blog. But somehow the dog seems more appropriate. Maybe I never captured the cymbal properly, or maybe there's something about that direct, unflinching canine gaze that just speaks to the essence of what this space is about.
I've always thought the cymbal header would be perfect and apt—there's something about that golden reflection and the promise of sound that feels right for a creative blog. But somehow the dog seems more appropriate. Maybe I never captured the cymbal properly, or maybe there's something about that direct, unflinching canine gaze that just speaks to the essence of what this space is about.
I've always thought the cymbal header would be perfect and apt—there's something about that golden reflection and the promise of sound that feels right for a creative blog. But somehow the dog seems more appropriate. Maybe I never captured the cymbal properly, or maybe there's something about that direct, unflinching canine gaze that just speaks to the essence of what this space is ab
There's something about that ornate temple interior too—the way the panorama stretches the sacred geometry into something even more otherworldly. Phone panoramas have this beautiful way of failing that makes them more interesting than if they worked perfectly.
The Absurdity That Panorama Gives
These are a few panoramic photos I took with my phone over the last few months. I like the absurdity that panorama gives.
The crowded train shots are perfect examples—bodies compressed and stretched, the claustrophobic space somehow made both more intimate and more surreal. That stepwell panorama turns architecture into an optical illusion, while the night shots of Marine Drive curve the famous Queen's Necklace into something impossible.
What I love about these phone panoramas is how they democratize the epic landscape shot. You don't need to haul equipment up a mountain or wait for perfect golden hour light. You just need to notice when the ordinary world around you has something worth capturing, then trust the technology to help you see it differently.
these are few panoramic photos that I took with my phone in the last few months .
I like the absurdity that panorama gives.
So what do you think? Cymbal or dog for the profile picture? Or should I hunt down that missing langur and make it a three-way competition?
What's your take on phone panoramas? Do you embrace the glitches or fight for technical perfection? Sometimes the most honest photography happens when we let the tools be beautifully, absurdly imperfect.
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