"The Killers," or, Ahwahnee

From a weekend.

Where I Am

Smallness

From Paul Strand, on moving from the US to France to experience and document the life of a pastoral French village:

"I liked the idea of being confined to a small place and then having to dig into its smallness."

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Do you think he meant beyond the camera?

Smallness is a matter of opinion, but in some way, I feel like this is more applicable to me right now than in other times in my life.

I feel like I have no roots. Dislocated. No real home. I'm constantly going back and forth from place to place...my real house, my other house, my house away from house. How many homes can you have?

And then I dream of what home could look like, and I'm not sure what to think of it.

I wonder if Strand traveled alone and who was waiting for him in France. Did he feel invited in that village?

Like he found a new home?

I think I shall continue to look into this matter. More thoughts later.

Buckle up, my friends

PSA from the UK - very well done.

Embrace Life

SFR

Swiss Family Robinson. Swiss design at its best.

On my to-do list: Build a Treehouse

WOW

I very much enjoy these photo projects. The hill (top left corner), day at the Yale Peabody, and JFK-SFO projects are especially amazing. His series on his friends reminds me of someone...

http://www.pauloctavious.com/

E.B. White Quotes

The first one I saw in a book this weekend, and it has been on my mind. The rest I thought were thought-provoking.

I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.

I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.

It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.

We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.

When I was a child people simply looked about them and were moderately happy; today they peer beyond the seven seas, bury themselves waist deep in tidings, and by and large what they see and hear makes them unutterably sad.

Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.