I Don't Have A Love Life. I

You Chose Love Like A Belief, A Faith, A Place, A Box For One's Heart To Knock Against Like A Spook In The House.

I Would Never Understand Photography, The Sneaky, Murderous Taxidermy Of It.

This Was My Modest Dream Come True: Unambitious Flight. The Kind That Never Even Got High Enough For A View.

If I Retain Any Freshness Of Approach, It's By Going Slowly Having Long Intervals Between Finished Projects.

Pleasantness Was The Machismo Of The Midwest. There Was Something Athletic About It. You Flexed Your Face Into A Smile And Let It Hover There Like The Dare Of A Cat.