ABOUT

My eyes have always been open to the world, ever since I awoke to the glow of a blue moon. It hung over the narrow, packed apartment houses on the hill by the checkered railroad, a first guide to the ways of things.  While that railroad often found me immersed further among the cityscape, it was a pigeon who told me how the future would go. While he made sure that I could never remember everything he mumbled, since knowing the future in full defeats the purpose of life, I've maintained a sense that everything is always about to change. As I've come to find, transporting from city to city, from places lined by former shoe machineries to carriage manufactories to mill-dominated alleys, change is truly the only constant. Also, I know that the most surprising solutions are often found told by disembodied whispers that lurk in places where industrial urban lands and encroaching wilds intertwine. Where the hand of a long-dead machine pokes through dirt and almost brushes against the roots of the biggest tree, an answer hides from plain view, sometimes enclosed in a small keepsake. Where a hummingbird briefly lands to drink from trumpet flowers that choke out a rust-ridden chain-link fence, you can often ask the subject for advice. It is in these peculiar moments that I find amazement in the diversity of things and return from lengthy walks to share what I've learned.