i want my words to be a little bit smaller, a little bit less significant, with a little more air. less loud music, even a song in a different language, to put oil on my skin. i need the sand in my eyes to make everything more clear, and a lump in my throat to make a decision for me.
there are less and less names to look for every day, no one to drive me as far north as i can get. no one with anger as yellow as mine, or restlessness as vivid in their dreams. nightmares.
please, if you are out there, find me in our identical spontaneity, and we'll work it out from there.


my photos from sauble beach
july 22-24


i am craving highways, cows, the smell of cow shit, horses, the smell of horse shit, ponds, puddles, pebbles, marshes, broken barns, deadwood, that nasty stench of exhaust fuel (diesel) from my mom's car, peeing on the side of the road, small boring towns, fields, frogs... anything but the city.


photos soon, from my underwater eyes!