But where do faces come from — the places before us, the places before ageless poetry and un-aimed photography or have they not come yet?
Confusion and division has created a pecking order. I’m close to the bottom in a wheelchair, relying on medicare and disability checks.
18 months, 500 hours, 148 million pixels and 186,000 data points. “All that work, for this?”
Running in Place from Place to Place
Was Progress, the ambition of a society to, well, improve itself, only a brief historical phenomenon that has faded like the Cheshire Cat, leaving us only a jaundiced grin (or a yellow vest)?…
Hatred of the written word has taken hold of state institutions— institutions of security and of executive power…
How the people we came to help (the Afghans) could benefit from our being in Zombalay proved utterly elusive…
As we spoke, I could hear the buzzing of drones and explosions in the background. The dark music woke hideous memories…