I am 25 and I live in NYC, but I grew up chasing tumbleweeds and hornytoads in New Mexico. I write things for a living, for now. I like the arts, photographs, old movies, the web, and the city, and tend to wonder how each influences the other. I thought this might be a good place to collect a few of the million images, sounds and ideas I get distracted by every day--sentimental though they may be. Welcome to my corner.
And if you just want to say hi, please do. I write back.
{What can you do if you are thirty and, turning the corner of your own street, you are overcome, suddenly by a feeling of bliss - absolute bliss! - as though you’d suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle, into every finger and toe? … Oh, is there no way you can express it without being “drunk and disorderly”? How idiotic civilisation is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle?}
“Bliss” by Katherine Mansfield is an excellent story on a day like this.
