At 300th of a second, the only thing that can match and surpass the speed of the camera is the infinitesimal twist of a thought. The photographer can’t physically see it; only the camera can. Frozen between such microscopical particles of time, the now distinguishable thoughts make people real but also characters in a vast spectacle, reserved only for the Demiurge to see in all its plot intricacies. The burden for the mortal light scribe with his camera is to show it with a still exposure,
300th of a second long.