i don't care where true things come from.
nor should you.
whether they're riddles, shooting stars, entire lives or gleams of revelation, as long as they exist, so will i.
i live for wind, for scents, for light(s), for the unturned, for the untold.
i'm made of transient visions, long-lasting memories and timeless dreams.
the highest of my peaks are in the deepest of emotions.
lifetimes of love. lives - and times - winged.
though utterly frustrating, it's words and images that come closest to construing our inner (f)light. other than that, i hate photography - it freezes worlds, and strangles their immensity to static, synoptic rendition.
copyright must: while every (wordy) thought is unnegotiably my own, the images are mostly not.
therefore, if anyone finds it disturbing or simply undesirable to have her/his photograph placed in my alphabetic mind of states, please email me.
