clementine

saw this and started praying

go here with me

where i lived, everything is dead.

our last summer together

on the carpet / between the pews / swinging by the chain of a rosary.

i tend to end up in strange places; this one i'm unsure about

where i come from

Back home after a month by the delta. I swear, i can feel the ground shake and the birches breathe here. All the dirt to which i am forever bound. I made it out is my glorious remedy. Even a day here now feels like an eternity, feels like weaving grass into braids, or watching the sinewy evening settle over the lines of spruces so puzzling to the eye. It's clear i am a product of this place, but i do not belong here anymore. It is too easy to be lonely here, it is lawless in every way that matters. A rule is easily crumbled, except for gravity which seems to somehow be stronger here. God, the east that binds me, that pure nowhere at the dead centre which, like yeats widening gyre, cannot hold. Monday, I'll return to my small apartment and close the door behind me, cook myself dinner. It's true that now I've tasted freedom, i can never go back. There is too much to gain, too much to lose. I am too in love with the bigger world.

fading, fading

me & him

i yearn for the dirt; i yearn for you.

church in an old mining town in the heart of a desolate valley

my mama's basement

photographs from another life

snuck into a church attic today and then almost got locked in