The Place Was A Familiar As Breath

Norah Watched Him, Serious And Utterly Absorbed In His Task, Overcome By The Simple Fact Of His Existence.

He Fished In His Pocket For His Keys And Instead Pulled Out The Last Geode, Gray And Smooth, Earth-shaped. He Held It, Warming In His Palm, Thinking Of All Mysteries The World Contained: Layers Of Stone, Concealed Beneath The Flesh Of Earth And Grass; These Dull Rocks, With Their Glimmering Hidden Hearts.

Photography Is All About Secrets... The Secrets We All Have And Will Never Tell.

He Wished He Had Some Kind Of X-ray Vision For The Human Heart.

Its Impossible To Control The Reception Of Your Work - The Only Thing You Can Control Is The Experience Of Writing Itself, And The Work You Create.