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."

Saturday, May 31, 2008

. . . . . .


Investitures. A camera day. And finally, rest. The rain is relentless--until now and tomorrow--then we're back in it again. I found a mushroom sprouting through the floorboards of the porch where I sat this morning with oatmeal and almond slivers and a cup of coffee and marveled. The two glossy starlings scold Rom and me while raising bits of their nest to the eaves. The leaves wave across the open door: way into the tree house.


And yesterday was the last day of class.


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

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers