The man who walks alone is soon trailed by the F.B.I.
The photograph, after all, is just a photograph. Words will determine its meaning and status.
Images proliferate. Am I wrong in being reminded of printing money in a period of wild inflation? Do we know what we are doing? Are we able to evaluate what we have done?
Cats don't belong to people. They belong to places.
When writing is good, everything is symbolic, but symbolic writing is seldom good.
In the blur of the photograph, time leaves its gleaming, snail-like track.