I used to think
Things were so clear
I was so near to nowhere
IF ONE TAKES THE TIME to study Vincent van Gogh’s numerous self-portraits, it is apparent that there are several “Vincents” dwelling within the one Vincent.
A journey through the contrasting urban and natural spaces within San Francisco’s 49 square miles.
In this Fellini-esque comedy, a psychic fishmonger foresees Amadeo’s death, so his fellow villagers rally to give him the best final seven days for which one could ask.
Walk me over this bridge
River so deep and so wide
Just walk me over the bridge, my darling
We’ll get to the other side
He sketched in charcoal
the arch of a shoulder
the movement of a hand
the woman’s head
turned and tilted slightly
toward the man
The Poetic Reconstruction of a Cornish Gansey, from Sheep to Sea.
He finds a Hershey bar
in his breast pocket, offers her a piece.
She flicks her cigarette into the dark,
takes the chocolate and says, Thanks, kiddo.