Here's a flip-flop. Flip-flapping, furthering fermentation, dank drinks drunk and destroyed. I got little words today, but think, big pictures rather. Fuck the thousand words, because that shit is never obvious. Dastardly, they assume the signals from one persons eyeballs to the brain will somehow completely explain their intentions. My connections to these photographs will always be greater because I was there for the moment of capture. My thousand words are my own, and you can't have them. You'll undoubtedly form your own. That's the intention. It's art, and emotions seek the mother tongue for description. I can ad quips, steering the ship in a north-easterly direction, but you're already in the life raft drifting. Here's a life saver. My excitement is derived from crisp, extraordinarily framed, abundantly lit (or highly absorbed), photographs.
Never mind. My phone just rang and I have to go move into my new house.
A la Photographic.
Please Hold - While I travel to space and back.
These Streets are Full of Flair
so is this the town you live in? do names,...it makes it personal
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