travelbug |
Brooklyn, baby, Brooklyn
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posted by travelbug on August 22nd, 2007 6:17 AM
We had that EXACT wind ornament. Every xmas it was part of the ritual to pull it out and set it up. It's so delicate. My mom moved back to England 15 years ago and I think it got sold at some haight ashbury garage sale. funny, i didn't miss it until i reminded of it. i love being awash in a long forgotton memory.
posted by travelbug on August 22nd, 2007 6:11 AM
hey...this one got rejected? Its ambiguity is such a strength.
posted by travelbug on August 17th, 2007 4:00 PM
"craptastic" may I quote you?
posted by travelbug on August 17th, 2007 12:06 PM
bug, bug, bug, bug, bug, bug
love, love
travel (ahem) bug
If there is such a thing as an art of living, then the man who lives life as an art will have a sense of his own beginning and his own end. And beyond that, he will know that his end is in his beginning, and that each breadth he draws can only him nearer to that end. He will live, but he will also die. For no work remians unfinished, even the one that has been abandoned.
Paul Auster, 1975