speaking of chairs, sir

this was one of the first
on the blog & long since
a favorite.
taken while
running through
Weimar; thinking then,
as now, that there was
to this corner than
could be known.
forlorn, now, but with
some easy still grace.

elegant in it's age.


i've mentioned this before:
the end of summer.

tomorrow, for us, it is
official. school starts.

of course, the weather
today took a turn for the
top of the thermometer (as
it so often does the week the
empty classrooms creak open
again). so much, i now realize,
to look forward to. so many good
things to look back upon. all in all:
it's been quite lovely, hasn't it?

a Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun

dear tish,

not the quadrille, but
realized today you might
like these ('tho i had run
out of space and time
on the camera & this
was the best i could get)

but the atmosphere!

it was something else

just as he had intended

our summer made her light escape into the beautiful

ivan terestchenko

photo: ivan terestchenko

have been captivated

by windows


photos: vt


square deal

dear liz danzico,

Thanks for your intentional organization. Every day.

And thanks for the Ryan Freitas (35 lessons) post today (from which I quote the following):


- Debates over terminology and semantics are for archivists and academics. If you’re interested in the living heart of what you do, focus on building things rather than talking about them.

- No one gives a damn about the size of your to-do list.

- How we handle ambiguity and failure has a lot to do with our potential for success.

- Your reputation is more important than your paycheck, and your integrity is worth more than your career.
Ryan Freitas


summer round-up

water ph: vt

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away—
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy—
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon—
The Dusk drew earlier in—
The Morning foreign shone—
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone—
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.

emily dickinson