My real self wanders elsewhere, far away, wanders on and on invisibly and has nothing to do with my life.
Hermann Hesse (via thenewjerktimes)
I love you in my own selfish way.
Photo by Daniel Garcia, November 2011
One of my favorite photogrphers - Vladimir Clavijo Telepnev
”Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.
W.S. Merwin
Photoshoot for Disko Nouveaux and Dances of Vice: Tokyo Blade Runner by Daniel Garcia and Seth Ricart - Installation by Evan Gruzis and Rafael De Cardanes, currently exhibited at the Hole Gallery.
Bon jour!” sang Ippolit Matveyevich to himself as he lowered his legs from the bed.
“Bon jour” showed that he had woken up in a good humor. If he said “Guten Morgen”
on awakening, it usually meant that his liver was playing tricks, that it was no joke being
fifty-two, and that the weather was damp at the time.
The Twelve Chairs (1928)
The strangest things were going on in Ippolit Matveyevich’s head. He could hear the sound of gypsy choirs and orchestras composed of big-breasted women playing the tango over and over again; he imagined the Moscow winter and a long-bodied black trotter that snorted contemptuously at the passers-by. He imagined many different things: a pair of deliriously expensive orange-coloured panties, slavish devotion, and a possible trip to Cannes…
Ilya Ilf & Yevgeny Petrov, The Twelve Chairs
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This blog is a catalogue of images, words, reflections, inspiration and memories - so that I don't forget.
