In the future, kimchi will be the only currency.

A listing vessel with a massive hole in its bow, drifting at sea. That is me, he thought—miraculously still afloat.

He couldn’t take great prose. The thought of someone having written it was too exhausting.

The future hasn’t aged well.

Life happened; he never knew what hit him.

The two primary obstacles to improvement were (1) starting, and (2) continuing.

Is the thought worth the effort it would take to express itself in words?

Hope is not your friend.

The wind, always present, but only its effects visible.

Do gorillas throw shit in the wild?

Some things should not be photographed or described, lest they be reduced to photographs or descriptions.

Beneath the zeitgeisty affectations he was an old school creepy letcher photographer guy.

Liked, respected, trusted, admired—
Those are off the table, I’m afraid…
Feared?
(embarrassed cough)
Tolerated?
We might be able to work with that.