The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face. Thousands and thousands of us, and we’re passing one another without a look of recognition.

— Henry Miller, “The Tailor Shop,” from The Cosmological Eye
My Paper Crane :: Heidi Kenney
Book Sculpture :: Malena Valcarcel
Center of the World, Felicity, California :: Mike Towber
Brooklyn Children’s Museum, Brooklyn Ave. & Park Place, 1924 :: The Great Bygone Museum Tour

We have destroyed something by our presence, a world perhaps. Yet we scarcely breathe, spent as we are.

— Virginia Woolf, fromĀ The Waves (via violentwavesofemotion)
I got a new camera today, and while I still don’t really know what the hell I’m doing, I took a bunch of pictures of my dogs. They are both hiding from me now, so apparently I took too many.