How Many Ghosts

Cassard's Weeping Angel Green-Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn, New York City, November 2016

Weary angel guarding the Romaine Family lot at Green-Wood Cemetery Brooklyn, New York City

Manhattan Suncatcher New York City, November 2016

Ballerine dans une boîte par JR East Village, Manhattan, New York City, November 2016

“As a child, I was an imaginary playmate.”

— Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

Seaside, OR, May 2016

“Nolite te bastardes carborundorum."

― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

Portland, OR, November 2016

"We have learned to see the world in gasps."

-Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

SoHo, New York City, November 2016

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.”

―Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, Portland, OR, November 2016

“At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Cézanne

Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, Portland, OR, November 2016

“Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell—a smell of dying moons and shadows--” 

― Zelda Fitzgerald, from Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda: The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald

Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, Portland, OR, November 2016

“Between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting.”

― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

Willamette Valley, OR, October 2016

"The shadow escapes from the body like an animal we had been sheltering.”

--Gilles Deleuze

Portland, OR, October 2016

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

--Emily Dickinson

Portland, OR, September 2013

“When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears.”

― Albert Camus, A Happy Death

Lone Fir Cemetery, Portland, OR, October 2015

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite."

— Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Ballard, Seattle, WA, March 2009

"I wanted to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me."

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, “Benediction” From The Best Early Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald

Cannon Beach, OR, May 2015

"I felt it shelter to speak to you."

— Emily Dickinson, from Emily Dickinson’s Letters