Friday, December 31, 2004
Thursday, December 30, 2004
tsunami
too often, we forget it is good to be alive, with food, water, and shelter.
too often, we forget nature is beautiful, unpredictable, and devastating.
too often, we will forget again that, by the time we close our eyes for good, that there are things that matter, and things that do not matter.
whenever, and wherever you are reading this.
please donate.
the very least that we can do.
there will be other tragedies. someone else, in this world, will have a better use of your contributions than yourself.
it will be a reminder.
too often, we forget nature is beautiful, unpredictable, and devastating.
too often, we will forget again that, by the time we close our eyes for good, that there are things that matter, and things that do not matter.
whenever, and wherever you are reading this.
please donate.
the very least that we can do.
there will be other tragedies. someone else, in this world, will have a better use of your contributions than yourself.
it will be a reminder.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Friday, December 24, 2004
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
sometimes, there aren't enough pictures to go around. or, at least, not enough pictures i'd feel like posting.
in that case, incidents will have to do.
waiting for the bus. the night is thick. cars, lorries, buses, and more cars are screaming by. but there is no one else.
a man walks up, uncertainly. he holds up a sign, with the number 15.
i tell him am waiting for the same bus. he says, simply, thanks.
the bus comes. he climbs on, slowly. i take a seat on the upper deck.
the bus engine roars up the winding road.
the driver, and the man on the lower deck. and me upstairs. and, empty blue seats under tired neon white.
i close my eyes, and feel the warm wind, tasting like diesel, fill my lungs.
in that case, incidents will have to do.
waiting for the bus. the night is thick. cars, lorries, buses, and more cars are screaming by. but there is no one else.
a man walks up, uncertainly. he holds up a sign, with the number 15.
i tell him am waiting for the same bus. he says, simply, thanks.
the bus comes. he climbs on, slowly. i take a seat on the upper deck.
the bus engine roars up the winding road.
the driver, and the man on the lower deck. and me upstairs. and, empty blue seats under tired neon white.
i close my eyes, and feel the warm wind, tasting like diesel, fill my lungs.