As you weave through the traffic of Hanoi, you become one with it.
Tag Archives: photography
Notes & Images from England, Ireland, and Sweden
August was a busy month — weddings, time with family and friends, and exploring cities we’ve never been.
Paths, Possibilities, and NYC
Such different life paths
From each other, and from mine
Yet New York City is like glue
Where these intersections materialize
Fragments on Time: Found Poetry in My Dashboard
I have nearly 50 drafts in my blog’s dashboard — waiting, forgotten, abandoned.
Instagram Has Ruined Me
Then I opened Instagram, ran a filter over it, and posted it — to send it off into the world to be liked and viewed for its moment of glory, and to shortly after join the stream of other Instagrams disappearing into our Internet wasteland.
On Travel, Time, and (Revisiting) Granada
Somehow, I’ve entered a special dimension — that space only accessible in these sorts of moments — where time truly reveals itself. Where time is more than the past, present, and future; and more than here and there and the line that connects them.
The UK, Instagrammed
I present to you my past month’s adventures in England and Scotland, via iPhone 4. With the exception of a handful of shots, most of these are Instagrammed.
Home, Instagrammed: San Francisco Through an iPhone Lens
Yes, I write about not knowing where or what home is.
That something is missing, that here isn’t quite right.
Then I walk around. I explore where I live.
And I’m reminded that things, truly, are fine.
On (New) Ways of Photographing and Consuming
I show a similar disinterest in my photography. Process and context are increasingly less significant. I’m preoccupied instead with creating the perfect shot for any given moment—worthy of an avatar, of a Facebook cover photo—and discarding the rest. A single unit is easier and faster to create—and consume.
Filed Away: On Pinterest and Dreams
Sure, I was collecting things in an online space. But it still felt like clutter, fit for shoe boxes under my bed. And with Pinterest, my aspirations no longer floated in my head. They were right there: discoverable, pinnable, and recyclable by others. Aren’t my dreams supposed to be elusive? Unable to be bookmarked?