A gentle melody that nudges— awakens, a memory it wasn’t love then, not yet just a noncommittal thought that you would always be there. The tune was dusty, metallic a music box phantom from somewhere the ashes of ashes vibrating soft melancholy of a forgotten matter of fact. to the unconditional love between a child …
untitled ii.
brick clouds, satin sky french thunder rumbles in jazz tears of the bayou. French Quarter, New Orleans, 10:37am.
untitled i.
Scent of coming rain whispers beneath the oak tree I await its tale. Jakuren Hōshi, 87
Edward Said
It seems a common human failing to prefer the schematic authority of the text, to the distortion of direct encounter with the human. Orientalism
a straw and a camel
im tired of being okay with things im not okay with. the Congo Rainforest is being raped by sleazy companies and desperate bushmen California teachers marooned in parent's living rooms, the flag half-mast for a queen a queen in a nation of babbling democratic zealots; and it's funny, in that helpless sort of way. "sometimes …
Zeami Motokiyo
"to watch the sun sink below the flower-clad hill. to wander into the forest, without thought of return. to stand upon the shore and gaze after a boat that disappears behind the distant islands. to contemplate the flight of the wild geese, seen and lost among the clouds." Yugen
september 17th, 2022
The time I spend in museums is not enough. I’ve always been a student of art history, since my adolescent years, but had no interest then in the collecting of fine hobbies. I used to find it pretentious, to roam sterile halls lined with 'Please Do Not Touch' signs and to regurgitate facts you read …
The-Bleu-Bivouac 