if you happened to look up.

it helps to look at the sky every now and then. this won't be around for another ninety years or something on that lengthy scale, so count those blessings and eat some fiber if the first round was missed.




sincerely,
lowt

sleepovers and chemical fingers.

'Time Travel: part 1', hopefully will get a chance to scan the negatives to give some more detail. Stories upon stories are encased in these frames.

sometimes sleeping on a couch in a cold room with nothing but fluorescent lights and a sleeping bag can teach you a lot. not saying i recommend it, but it did wonders for me.


hope you've found some passion or reinvented one you may have forgotten about.


sincerely yours,

-lowt

come out with it.

sometimes I can't read you.

sorry,

woke up too late to lie.

love,

lowt

365.

over the course of a year, a lot can be learned about a person: their smile, figuring out how to make two fit in a tiny bed, their short comings, how to bite your tongue, that distance can't destroy; i could go on and on about the things i've discovered about the girl pictured above, but what i learned above all is that i'd like to learn more.

between the two of us, i think i found my ryde or die chic. see you on the shores in another 365.

( )

lowt

i thought you knew they were coming...

unlatch the gate and forget your bed time,

for what you think you see is just a fog.

the gate is open, and your socks are dry

take your body

to the lights you've seen in slumber.

they'll be waiting, whether the thought crosses

their mind

or not. believe me, I've seen them.

yes, i Know. they don't 'exist',

but really, do we?

dream # 18.

sometimes you have to sit above the lights and eat the American Dream to really realize where you've gone wrong.

-lowt

midpoint.

i heard talk of sailing, which is well good. mind you, i need to get back to the feelings of the mountains. my legs can't take this flat line feeling much longer.



-lowt

mind your head: part two.

'cause I know that ego of yours has been walking around on stilts as of late.





-lowt

morse code.

picture frames floated through my brain as i stood in the door frame.
pants with pleats, shoes that gave the reflection of an unsure man,
an off white shirt held together by a tie of polka dot assortment.
socks sweated through
and that embarrassing squish as i move ahead in line.

i've not yet hit the inner rim of the door,
there is time to retrace steps,
time to hide in the past,
but the tip tap or my morse code fingers
gives all the nonsense to the air.

more frames wait in line to find their place
on this awkward time line of tunnel vision thoughts.
but i won't stop going door to door.





-lowt

mind your head: part one.

illuminati coming from the blind side...


-lowt

transplanted in a vacuum sealed bag,
lifted from the norm
staring at the cave wall, looking for some signal.

continued....


-lowt

september.

time to start growing those analog fingers again.....

-lowt

here i am, in a far land without a soul as a pal or ounce of common knowledge. keep your ears close to the surface, 'cause i'm listening for the buffalo....

-lowt

travel well.

you'll be home soon enough, my friend.





-lowt.

circling the map.

a lot of folk speak tales treasure hunting, to get what their mind's eye desires, to find their X on tea stained maps. i've found, over the past three hundred or so days that you don't really need to search for this elusive X. sometimes the X finds you. remember: all who wander are not lost.

-lowt.

while you were out...

(a duffel bag, one pair of blazers, a couple dozen rolls of film, and a minute understanding of the Spanish language)

'only when we step outside ourselves, are we able to cope with the conscious being propelled by a few shaky muscles..'


these images you see above the jumble of letters means a lot. there is a story in this series, though i have chosen to keep the narrative out, for once. there are a few mistakes, some changes, some new pals, solojourns, and family. the trips that are above are over, but thank the lawd for the negatives scattered around my bedroom floor: some over/under exposed, filled with light leaks. this narrative is still going, and so am i.