Perhaps true, total photography, he thought, is a pile of fragments of private images, against the creased background of massacres and coronations.
Italo Calvino, Adventures of a Photographer (via verbumsat)
(Source: lambentstar)
∞
“Plan B”
Makes you wonder what plan A was… in a way it’s like Muldoon thought of plan B while a book was on his head.. “On my own head be it if, after the years of elocution and pianoforte” he says in the beginning and then ends with “to the book balanced on my head.”
∞
7. Endings
This poem makes me think that everything ends somewhere…
“A child
shifts in a cot.
No matter what happens now
I’ll never fill one again.”
The child feels abandoned while seeing the branches and realizing that everything ends.
∞
