an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Sunday, February 24, 2008

. . . . . . .


"It is better to use the term 'vulnerable' [which] directly qualifies love. Love is receiving and it is giving. It tears us away from ourselves (it is 'ex-static'), but it is also receptive of the other, of the loved one. And from the moment one is receptive, one is vulnerable; one is hurt by the person one welcomes, who might not be as considerate as he who welcomes him."

--M.D. Philippe


My mother's mother; her mother's mother. A glass.


Lethargy: probably not a good enough reason to be reading so much Kierkegaard online.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers