not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Friday, August 5, 2011


once this was a room and once this was a fur and once there was a woman who wore it.  once she walked this floor, once she wore this fur, once she was a woman inside it. who was she?  she.  and so who am i, or you?

do you see that ceiling light in the distance?  the tree-line?  her?  me?  you?


  1. ollie, what a wonderful way to put it. aren't we all in historical light, this continual falling off of the moment? thank you.



"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))