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."

Monday, January 12, 2009

winter: week two



It was about 6 degrees that day, or colder, the sun shining through the ice in the trees, the ice thick on the ground and treacherous. I went out for twenty minutes for these photos, racing to keep my hands from going numb, panicking at the last when my hands lost feeling the second I pulled off my gloves, and I couldn't turn the key in my front door, and the keys were so cold they burned.


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

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers