Miles of man-made hills surround me in this city, yet I tread the same few most of my days. The concrete below my feet often vanishes in a rhythm of routine, but then I remember to look! And when I do, I find: a wrinkled masterpiece blowing amongst discarded plastic bags, and a leaf with a brilliant identity crisis.
In an ongoing quest for hope and love and authenticity, I hold these things dear, pressed between the pages of a bedside book, rare treasures mined from the mundane...
"A collection is usually an attempt to somehow take hold of the world around us, to control at least a few of its parts..."
-Paul Elliman, The World As Printing Surface
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