I Like To Feel Dumb. That’s How

The Particular Qualities And Intentions Of Photographs Tend To Be Swallowed Up In The Generalized Pathos Of Time Past.

A Man Never Forgets His Body The Way A Woman Does, Because A Man Is Pushing His Body, A Part Of His Body, Forward, To Make The Act Of Love Happen. He Brings The Jut Of His Body Into The Act Of Love, Then Takes It Back, When It Has Had Its Way.

All Understanding Begins With Our Not Accepting The World As It Appears.

Is It The Obligation Of Great Art To Be Continually Interesting? I Think Not.

Today Everything Exists To End In A Photograph.