i am eating fresh figs (so plump they can barely stay in their skins) from an early-autumn fig tree, and feeling much better after a weekend spent mostly in bed, re-reading 'eating animals' and sleeping for hours and hours. and i am, as always, thankful for lambros, who drives me to doctor's appointments and chemists and brings these figs to me and doesn't mind when i only have enough energy to solve three crossword clues.
beginning in new york: i took the mamiya along to coney island because i thought its hazy, imprecise glow would suit such an odd place.
friends' legs on the boardwalk.
everything was closed, of course, since it was winter. but i had never seen snow intersect with sand before (in my head, i suppose, sand is yellow and therefore hot, and completely incompatible with slowly thawing ice).
there is a certain beauty in the flashiness of these signs. what compels people to visit (and spend vast amounts of money at) carnivals, theme parks, circuses? are we any better for going to one that was closed, and peeking in at the perimeter? i can pretend all i like that the old signs, the unconnected LED bulbs, and the rides suspended in the sky like great stiffened birds held my attraction, but the meaning of the carnival (according to the dictionary sharing the couch with me, [It.
carnevale, prob. <>caro (
carn-), flesh, and
levare, lighten, take away.] the season immediately preceding Lent, observed in Italy and elsewhere with merrymaking and revelry; the festivity of this season; in general, a large, usually public merrymaking; a travelling show with amusements such as side shows and rides; and entertainment) remains, even without the crowds and lights and shrieks. but
caro, levare, flesh taken away? in the sense of sweating in fear, or one of those awful rollercoaster accidents that still occur too frequently.
and now we are back in montreal in fall, climbing mont royal with apples.
beginning in new york: i took the mamiya along to coney island because i thought its hazy, imprecise glow would suit such an odd place.
friends' legs on the boardwalk.
everything was closed, of course, since it was winter. but i had never seen snow intersect with sand before (in my head, i suppose, sand is yellow and therefore hot, and completely incompatible with slowly thawing ice). 
there is a certain beauty in the flashiness of these signs. what compels people to visit (and spend vast amounts of money at) carnivals, theme parks, circuses? are we any better for going to one that was closed, and peeking in at the perimeter? i can pretend all i like that the old signs, the unconnected LED bulbs, and the rides suspended in the sky like great stiffened birds held my attraction, but the meaning of the carnival (according to the dictionary sharing the couch with me, [It. carnevale, prob. <>caro (carn-), flesh, and levare, lighten, take away.] the season immediately preceding Lent, observed in Italy and elsewhere with merrymaking and revelry; the festivity of this season; in general, a large, usually public merrymaking; a travelling show with amusements such as side shows and rides; and entertainment) remains, even without the crowds and lights and shrieks. but caro, levare, flesh taken away? in the sense of sweating in fear, or one of those awful rollercoaster accidents that still occur too frequently.
and now we are back in montreal in fall, climbing mont royal with apples.
i am so proud of this last photograph. 
2 comments:
glowy snow white apple
looks like photographic disney
it is, so poisonous it barely exists.
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