Yesterday a friend pulled a book out of a shelf in the bar we were at. It was a volume about Pablo Picasso and on the back cover the publisher had the brilliant idea of placing a photo of Picasso’s right hand. My friend shot this picture and I started wondering if our palm lines (Pablo’s and mine) would have some similarities at all, which could led me to think what my future life would be like. I could really relate to this image of me being old and living in the south of somewhere, where the weather is gentle, painting in the morning light next to a sleeping dog while the birds sing outside.
Seems like a great way to end your days. Wondering how you envision yours. Can you draw it?
"I'm from Libya," he said. I don't know what to say. It's as if he'd told me he'd just come from his father's funeral.
The first specialty coffee shop in Ikebukuro and Junkudo (bookstore) resonate.
Editing is interpreting.
The Riddle of Steel.
The man stands motionless in a crush of white-shirted salarymen, as they swarm past him, toward the single escalator.
Rêve de centre commercial-piscine
Birthday walk home