the ugly earring

ug‧ly [uhg-lee] offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance

Category: photography

in a blue cloud-cloth


The Dream Keeper

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

image: Andrea Islas Garcia, farmer, blind from cataracts, Beunavista 1998.
by Marco A. Cruz.

words: the dreamer by langston hughes


“they just want to play”


“he was not expecting to uncover much we did not already know: kids love dolls and dinosaurs and trucks and cuddly monkeys, and will construct worlds around them before eventually, inevitably, disregarding them for ever. “At their age, they are pretty all much the same,” is his conclusion after 18 months working on the project. “They just want to play.”

image: Alessia – Castiglion Fiorentino, Italy

from  this gem: Toy Stories by Gabriele Galimberti

you will greet yourself/ arriving at your own door

Graciela Iturbide

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

poem: Love after Love by Derek Walcott
image: Graciela Iturbide, Quince años, 1985

the first poem



via: encyclopedia homeschoolica
1. 2.

the imperious wind

image: Garry Winogrand, New Mexico, 1957
quote: Adolphe Rette via old chum

random family portrait

from max wanger blog: jesse +whitney family

a chicken or an egg

“Francisca’s eggs are small, creamy and the yolk is yellowish orange while Bonita’s yolk’s are the color of persimons. I have not yet tasted Bonita’s eggs.  Astrid won’t share those.  She’s addicted to eggs.”

text: beatrice valenzuela’s pretty post eggs
photo: Manuel Carrillo – Girl with Chicken


Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.

the rooster and his white hens

The afternoon I wrote to you about the rooster and his hens we came back to the ranch to find them gone–the little white hens almost without a trace–and piles of rooster’s green and bronze and black feathers scattered everywhere. By searching carefully I found four white feathers a short distance from the house. The coyotes had come–at least four of them I think because otherwise the dogs could have protected rooster and his hens. Coyotes waste nothing and so it is as if the white hens were never here; the rooster, on the other hand, was always a strange creature. A number of times I would be talking to Denny and would feel as if we were not alone; when I looked out the open window I’d find the rooster listening outside like a being out of some Haitian voodoo story. Now when the wind blows I find feathers, every time thinking that surely now I am seeing them for the last time, but finding them again and again. What is remarkable though are the colors of the feathers, which remain undimmed, and the texture of the feathers, which is as glossy as if they had only just fallen from him; and all this after weeks of the feathers blowing around the ground in dust and rain.

1.a tarkovsky polaroid: Domiziana Giordani, Actress, Bagno Vignoni, 2 November 1982
2. a letter to james wright written by leslie marmon silko


“Or else I shall grow old,” she said,
“Alone, and change my likeliness
For a vile, slack shape, a head
Shriveled with thinking wickedness
Against the day I must be dead
And eaten by my crabbed wish.”

from young woman by howard nemerov

did you know howard and diane were brother and sister?