Posted in Uncategorized on July 12, 2013 by Eugene

“For as we have candles to light the darkness of night, so the cypresses are candles to keep the darkness aflame in full sunshine”

-DH Lawrence


The Cablecar

Posted in Literary Musings on September 13, 2012 by Eugene


The Cablecar

The silver box rose lightly up from the valley,
ape-easy, hanging on by its one arm;
in minutes, it had shrunk the town to a diagram,
the leaping river to a sluggish leat of kaolin,
the fletched forests to points it overrode.
It had you in its web of counterweights,
of circles evolved to parallel straight lines.

Riding the long slurs, it whisked you over
the moraine’s hopeless rubble. It had your heart
in your mouth at every pylon, where it sagged,
leaned back, swooped on. It had you hear how ice
cracked on the cable. It had you watch it throw
and already crumpled shadow of bent steel
onto the seracs. It made you think of falling.

By the time it lowered you back to the spread valley,
to the broad-roofed houses decorated with lights,
you could think only of what it was like to step
out, at the top, onto the giddy edge
of snowfields still unprinted, that pure blaze;
to be robbed of your breath by the thin air, by a glimpse
of the moon’s daytime ghost on solid blue.
— Lawrence Sail

Posted in Literary Musings on July 30, 2012 by Eugene

“Solitude, I reflected, is the one deep necessity of the human spirit to which adequate recognition is never given in our codes. It is looked upon as a discipline or penance, but hardly ever as the indispensable, pleasant ingredient it is to ordinary life, and from this want of recognition come half our domestic troubles. The fear of an unbroken tete-a-tete for the rest of his life should, you would think, prevent any man from getting married…Modern education ignores the need for solitude: hence a decline in religion, in poetry, in all the deeper affections of the spirit: a disease to be doing something always…”

–Freya Stark, Valley of the Assassins


Posted in Poetry on June 28, 2012 by Eugene


The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

–Jeffrey Mcdaniel

Stone and Picture

Posted in Literary Musings on February 19, 2012 by Eugene

In the Pieta, Michelangelo finally solved the problem of depicting a full grown man held decorously in the arms of a woman.

The judges at the World Press Photo of the Year 2011 recognize its enduring appeal, even if they see Michelangelo’s sculpture subconsciously. The collapse of a man on the arms of a woman is hard to see chiseled in stone; equally hard to photograph in Yemen’s interiors.


Home of myself

Posted in Photographs of Land on September 22, 2011 by Eugene

You would sometimes imagine a country that was entirely happy, a little quieter and unself-conscious. Parts of Singapore that are content to let the future be something that happens somewhere else.

A certain sense of place

Posted in Photographs of Land on September 18, 2011 by Eugene

“Wind blows through a landscape. If that flow of air that is not visible to the eye can be felt in the picture, then I would venture to say that the photograph successfully fulfills one of the goals of landscape photography.”  – Shoji Ueda