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

Friday, January 20, 2012

up









what waits for us?

4 comments:

  1. nobody knows dear Erin...

    Sometimes I think about when I was little, carefree, innocent, unsuspecting.
    I make myself so much tenderness, when I think that I didn't knew everything that would happen to me later ...

    your fotos are stunning in this case, I love your fotos and your few words, that speaking to me so much..

    you are simply so full of feelings

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  2. Perhaps you've entered these decrepit mansions, with cracks and leaks. This is the kind of life

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  3. m violetta, is this so? oh! i never thought - (wonderful!)

    laura, nostalgia again)) to think of you little and innocent moving through a space such as this, suddenly you inhabit my own memories of self. we all become one in those early stages.

    damaso, in translation your comment refers to mansions. at first i reacted against this notion because the homes are so obviously (to me) less than mansions (but perhaps once were something of the sort) but now i find that actually i am quite in love with the idea, decrepit mansions. don't they call us onward? don't they say, but stop first for a moment and see what is here so that you might understand yourself?

    xo
    erin

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"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))