Clouds by Jorge Luis Borges
I There can’t be a single thing which is not cloud. You are a cloud in a supermarket looking for something to darken. II The name in store for them is clouds. They have hardly changed since Shakespearean times, Though they live longer, and are twice as tall. Their improvised architecture Nags God to keep creating. This morning, for example, I said the word clouds. * Translated by Oli Hazzard From...
This week has been about heavy removal and joyful addition. Above all else, the endlessness of the ocean equalizes. Standing before the Gulf as I post this. I couldn’t be anywhere else.
Susan Sontag writes:
Photography is the only major art in which professional training and years of experience do not confer an insuperable advantage over the untrained and inexperienced — this for many reasons, among them the large role that chance (or luck) plays in the taking of pictures, and the bias toward the spontaneous, the rough, the imperfect.