It has been a while since my last real update. I have been sick for what feels like three months now. On and off every 2-3 weeks and even during my trip to Chicago. I haven't fully recovered, but today I just felt the need to write something down, despite feeling like my head is full of clouds. And such is my style, I write when I am slightly delirious and only then can I actually form words to purge these thoughts.

These images weren't intentional. I took these pictures with my mind set on documenting how things are now over there to update my memory bank. And well, memories are a funny thing. It is always interesting for me to come back home, or to any familiar place, only to find that though things are different certain feelings remain the same.

Then you realize, memories come back in the form of what they have grown to become. And you meet them again and again and again, spiraling into a rabbit hole you try to avoid falling into. But I digress..

Though I arrive thinking I have new eyes to see with, there is always a greater gravitational pull (perhaps from my mother's couch) that makes me want to just lay there with my eyes closed while bathing in the sunlight. Possibly wishing I was someplace else and nevertheless, comforted all at once. But that is all I have to say about that.

So I have come to accept and love how the images turned out. I believe it was meant to come out distorted or abstracted because truthfully, it comes closest to conveying what my memories and thoughts are made of (with the exception of the last two photographs).

Finally, I will just leave you with this quote, which may or may not further explain/distort what I am trying to say:

"We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection. Something closed must retain our memories, while leaving them their original value as images. Memories of the outside world will never have the same tonality as those of home and, by recalling these memories, we add to our store of dreams; we are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost."
Gaston Bachelard (The Poetics of Space)


100dBs finally dropped a mix today!!
40 minutes to freedom

click the image ^ and listen.
let's just say I'm dancing in my seat at work right now.


remnants of sheffield house

There was something about this place that felt so peaceful, specially during the day. It reminded me something from my childhood.

There were windows in all the rooms which allowed for beautiful sunlight to come streaming in from all sides of the flat, which also made it feel warm and cozy. I've only been there a few times and these photos were from the day Adrienne moved out.

There was a book next to Leila's crib called, "Undead" by John Russo. I read a few pages while I was there and came across a quote which I found so poignant at that time. I didn't have a pen or paper on me so I decided to e-mail it to myself. Mind you this was back in January and I completely forgot about that quote. I didn't get the e-mail until a couple weeks ago which was odd. Here's the quote:

"Why does life seem so ugly and beautiful and sad and important while you are living it, and so trivial when it is over?

Life is a constant endless creation of graves."