George Sand said it best....

"Writing a journal means that facing your ocean you are afraid to swim across it, so you attempt to drink it drop by drop."

It was the third anniversary of 9-11 a few days ago and I tried to ignore it because I just couldn't feel it emotionally anymore but I decided to post this today. It was a series of photos my neighbor Kim & I took two days after the fateful day.
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Post-group at my apartment.
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My parent's wedding photo perched high up over a cabinet, overlooking the living room that we use for guests and special occasions (which includes whenever I come home). My father retouched the whole photo and the surface is a seemingly textured hybrid of photography and pastel though it is certainly flat. My father looks as white as he wishes he was....while my mother is more doll-like and not as beautiful as other natural photos reveal her to be.
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A still life from my parent's home. I clicked this pic during a Labor day weekend trip I just got back from. I like the orientalist/Canadian aethetic of it all. It captures my mom's aesthetic quite well but also is allusive as to what it could mean.
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Me and Amy show off our signs.
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A Jesus-Christ wannabe joins the coffins in an erie collision of worlds.
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Coffins again.
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More coffins.
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I entered the stream of coffins on 33rd Street and Fifth Avenue.
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A tableau from the Kiss-in before it heads out to Times Square and 100 protestors got caught in the nets of the NYPD.
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Riot police in the background.
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