It is my contention that the process of reading is part of the process of writing, the necessary completion without which writing can hardly be said to exist.
The act of making a photograph is less a question of what is being looked at than how.
friendship was always contingent.
oil paints...the look of licked lips.
I want everything back, the way it was. But there is no point to it, this wanting.
If you want what's in the package you should at least know how to get the string off, is what I say.