In a house is the silence of what is a home. We either keep a man out or […]
A year ago today I went to take pictures of an abandoned amusement park. There were few other […]
1 Amanda is sitting on the train, reading a book. It is Memoirs of Hadrian, by Marguerite Yourcenar. 2 The […]
When is the wedding? slurs the homeless man, you make such a beautiful couple. His comrades merry in […]
I recall that Susana once objected to the use of the phrase “fat cats” for big businessmen, because her love of cats prevented her from accepting any negative feline references, but I put my foot down and it stuck.
The key is to have a religion then lose it then find a new one. To become a master of something. Kung fu, say, or fucking. To look at all times as if one is flexing all the muscles especially the ones in the center of everything.
What’re ya in for, punk? he said, when the cell door slammed behind me and the locks all […]
Somewhere on a battlefield in Europe is a cranium, in which echoes an asylum visit. The visit has […]
Why am I Celeste? Why am I, Celeste? Who is the this? What invokes the this that is this, […]
These photographs are from Riverbed Stories, a series I began in 2014 that documents the riverbeds beside the industrial areas of Erith and Dartford. It’s a location that I have been photographing since 2009, during which time it has become more polluted. Mattresses, chairs, televisions, and car tyres litter the beds, along with handless gloves, floating shoes and discarded baby carriages.
minor literature[s] 