Fragments

Some ideas burn me. My skin is different after I touch them.

Art gives my life intensity.

Life is the process of vanishing. Photograph captures this vanishing like no other art can.

Eugene Atget--> his work documented a vanishing world

Photography as a way of possessing the dead.

I cannot look at pictures of my father. It's as though he is the photograph.

Walter Benjamin-->philosopher of fragments // had an interest in ruins, how ruins can be used to rebuild

I obsessively collect quotes, films, books. They will be my ruins.

The years that haunt you.

I love being alone. I love solitude. I am ashamed that I'm not ashamed. What is it in me that can live without people?

You are not trapped. Writing makes you free.

Life only breathes when it is written, only then does it live.

Notes on Safe (1995) by Todd Haynes--> "Are you allergic to the 20th century?"//  the toxicity of the modern world// disease as a state of isolation, a state of being profoundly within ourselves, within our bodies// Carol at the baby shower, gasping for breath, her red ringlets trembling with each gasp // Modern life as something that can make you sick, kill you

Only art feels real, only dreams are tangible.

The loss is unspeakable

I measure life by his death. It isn't 2015; it's another year without him.

I cannot listen to the music he loved. I'm losing him again.

In a live performance of Precious Things, Tori Amos sings "Wash me clean, daddy. Wash this thing, daddy."

You shouldn't read my words. You should run from them.

To love is to be contaminated by other people, no longer separate. You cannot extricate them from you, nor you from them. To live without them is impossible because your life is stained by them, like a dye. They bleed into everything. When they die, you don't really live without them, they are still there in all that is absent and present, spoken and unspoken.