baruk
more broken bottles
i can’t really think of a better metaphor for what i’d like my life’s work to be than ‘breaking bottles’. “what do you do?” “oh i break bottles.” nice, lol.
review(ish): atlas of remote islands
i’ve never quite understood ‘travelling’ as it is often done today, the main purpose of which seems to be to rush from one place to another, with more photographs of a place than memories. i seem to prefer the slow journey, where you spend months or years in a place before moving on. it [...]
doors open
doors open. and shut. and slam. and are locked. and are broken down. and open. walls just stand there, fixed and stern, like charity. and windows sometimes offer more hope than fulfilment. but doors, they open.
rust to rust
There’s something inherently beautiful about rust. It is a vivid reminder that nothing we make will last forever – not our great machines nor our many fences. It may take a million years, but in the end, green leaves and sea water take it all back. We will all die, and others will stand where [...]
long long ago
Long long ago, and far far away, there was a mountain. At the foot of the mountain (sorta near the big toe) there was a stream. It was a long and winding stream, and was very famous in certain circles. By the side of the stream, just after a very bendy bend, was a rather [...]
