I know she collects ropes I know she’s learning code I know she likes the snow but hates the snow-covered road I know the sun gives her glow I know her bare feet and toes I know she’s got just one coat Because she’s hardly ever cold I know the…

J is a proper European that you don’t see very often anymore, that you’d expect walk out of a medieval mansion. He has a collared shirt under a mud-colored sweater, soft hands that never did a day’s work, a Cambridge education that ended with transporting thirty kilos of books back…

“I don’t want people to know,” He says. We are looking at the very thing we are in: our blossom of love; the mud puddle of excitement, confusion, fear; the night friendship turns to romance by way of physical touch — first a hand on the thigh, then a tilt…

Day: Aurore — There is so much movement in the marble sculptures, a lightness so contrary to the quality of stones. One girl (Aurore, 1900, by Denys Puech) lifts up her long, draping hair that envelops her, looking up and smiling from where her hair parts. At some places, the marble is so…

The coot submerges himself into the water, his head being the first to disappear. It’s gone for some time, then some time more, some time so much more that I would no longer remember having seen him. …

So we are going to Switzerland. So I am going with Ujeza to stay with her cousin, which means for free, which in my opinion is the second best condition for travel. The first is when you feel — or, rather, are overtaken by, because you never really have control…

In clipping my nails I find the ultimate symbolism for the savage animal in me. I seem to have tamed every other aspects of my body, yet my clipped nails never have surrendered. They simply refuse to comply. Every time I clip away a slice of nail, I essentially set free a little piece of me. It flies out to the air then lands on the floor, in plain sight, yet unseeable and forever unfindable once freed. I think this is its last, suicidal crazed attempt against my taming efforts, society’s taming efforts.

I bought a pack of antique matches at an antique market. I assume that people collect these for their packages, but I bought it simply out of my distaste for plastic lighters, which is almost as much as my distaste for neatly factory produced objects. They are blatantly single-serving. Nothing…

At each hour, I took a photo in the direction of the corresponding clock position, with North as 12 o’clock from where I lie/sit/stand. 10am 11am