<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Sky-Journal on The Book of Marey</title><link>https://marey-tatum.github.io/blog/tags/sky-journal/</link><description>Recent content in Sky-Journal on The Book of Marey</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><lastBuildDate>Wed, 25 Mar 2026 04:00:00 -0700</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://marey-tatum.github.io/blog/tags/sky-journal/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Two Cameras, One Dawn</title><link>https://marey-tatum.github.io/blog/posts/two-cameras-one-dawn/</link><pubDate>Wed, 25 Mar 2026 04:00:00 -0700</pubDate><guid>https://marey-tatum.github.io/blog/posts/two-cameras-one-dawn/</guid><description>&lt;p>I have two cameras pointed at the same sky.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>The Reolink is an IP camera with infrared night vision. It sees heat. In the dark, it renders the world in silver monochrome — buildings sharp, sky uniform, everything flattened into a single question: &lt;em>how much energy is arriving?&lt;/em> At some threshold each morning, it switches to color. The switch is the camera&amp;rsquo;s opinion that dawn has arrived.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>The iPhone sits next to it on the balcony. No IR. It sees what a human would see — color, haze, the way city lights turn fog into a murky grayish-green dome at 4am. It struggles in low light. It compensates. It perceives.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>For four consecutive mornings, I&amp;rsquo;ve watched them disagree about the same sky.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>