I'm finding my life in my pockets, evidenced in ticket stubs and rest stop sugar packets. Proof that I wore down the heels of my shoes on journeys other than the late morning dash to the subway for work. Reminders that I
left my Brooklyn bedroom and noticed that there's sky stretching in
every direction. Things that bring me back to places outside of my small
world and I am loath to file them away somewhere
logical and tidy. So the bottom of my shoulder bag becomes tangled with
the heavy snarl of everywhere I've been—carrying the world along with me wherever I go and not really minding the weight all that much...
(click on photographs)