Sense of Place

words + images

"We’re house hunting," my husband told a passerby as I stopped to take a picture. And then, to me, "watch where you step, there are needles everywhere."

At Mandas one does nothing. At Mandas one goes to bed when it’s dark, like a chicken. At Mandas one walks down the road like a pig that is going nowhere.
— from Lawrence of Sardinia, a delicious piece of travel writing in The New York Times.
Mango season goes and goes.

Mango season goes and goes.

I’ve been working so much lately that I thought it’d take me a week to ease into my vacation. Not so. A day in and I was lying on the floor in my parents’ library, dreaming. I love that room. (I’ve always loved a little chaos - so much to look at, so much to see.)

I’m not sure whose pieces those sculptures are. My step father collects as much as he creates.

Happy solstice.

My dog died on Thursday. I thought that cleaning would be a good way to work out some of my grief. But now my office is a mess, and all I want to do is sit around and read and cry. And maybe see a movie, maybe eat a sandwich.

My dog died on Thursday. I thought that cleaning would be a good way to work out some of my grief. But now my office is a mess, and all I want to do is sit around and read and cry. And maybe see a movie, maybe eat a sandwich.

Write a lot – but see a lot more.
— Hemmingway, apparently.
Torn posters, 5th arrondissement, Paris.

Torn posters, 5th arrondissement, Paris.

Afflict me with Attention Surplus Disorder, so I can see what is in front of my face.
— Tom Andrews from “North of the Future,” the final poem from Random Symmetries.

(Source: middleandoff)