Two Dreams
Let me be. Let me detach and drift downstream, away from the dry patch of earth… all those ants. Ants will be ants will be
It Started in Indio
Day 1 had gone tits up, that's for sure.
On Landscape, or The Satire of Ansel Adams
I can't help but think of poor Ansel Adams, the impotence of his work. How can you appreciate the mastery without lamenting the shortcoming of the medium? Maybe that's the point. Maybe he was a satirist, after all.
Praise Be the Baker
Every morning about now, the smell from one of the two bakeries near my place wafts up on the morning breeze. Just did. Just now. And it reminds me of something, something safe, something joyful...
Spring Springs in Budapest
Soon the restaurants and bars along the Duna will open up, and the ones I'm talking about are the kind that have a small cottage for prepping food, surrounded by picnic tables and mismatched seating, string lights, umbrellas and awnings, places where if you drop a french fry it lands in dirt.