Dead Textures vs. Conversation and Wine

(or, Four Images of a Dead Thing and One of Something Living)

It’s not really a mystery why I don’t have more friends. When I should be walking out the door to comingle and get a little pissed with my fellow human beings, I do things like become obsessed by the texture of a dead houseplant.

Suddenly it’s 1:00am and I’m all alone with images that need processing and the Yardbirds on the jukebox.

Then it’s 3:00am and I’m alone with finished shots, Duke Ellington and my highball. Not very social.

In short, Emyli, I’m sorry I never made it to the party. I’m not sure that the finished work was really worth it and hopefully you’ll invite me down the next time.