July 14th, 2007
Bourbon and strawberries
At 1:25 this morning I stared into the flowing Kandagawa and I saw the past. I saw it rushing by awash in garish fluorescent light, unnoticed and trivial. But leaning on the aluminum bridge railing with a crumpled Camel hard pack in my breast pocket, nursing the wounds of my termination, I knew there was nothing to be said or done. I knew it before the night had even started; I knew it in winter last year as I undertook the most visceral and pure session of my limited photographic career.
I have been, and always will be, a lover; born in the world not just strongly attracted to beauty but, almost, hopelessly impaled on it.
And I’m sorry it had to drive us apart.
