South Africa :: Portraits
Fleeting moments flow,
high mountain streams of memory,
careening towards deeper, slower, waters,
where time is a liner note,
and no face is forgotten.
Fleeting moments flow,
high mountain streams of memory,
careening towards deeper, slower, waters,
where time is a liner note,
and no face is forgotten.
As a child I harbored dreams of becoming a Ninja.
I even had a couple of throwing stars that I kept hidden in my closet, waiting for the day I would join my Ninja brethren on some great mission.
But the path of life is meandering, and somewhere along the way I gave up on those dreams.
Indeed I had nearly forgotten them altogether until I met this talented human being, and martial artist, PaiSen. A big thanks to Pai and Patrick O'brien (my favorite producer) for indulging my innner child and making this shoot so much fun!
and Nobody Seems To Like Him,
they Can Tell What He Wants To Do
and He Never Shows His Feelings
but The Fool On The Hill Sees The Sun Going Downand The Eyes In His Head See The World Spinning `round.
he Never Listens To Them
he Knows That They`re The Fool
they Don`t Like Him.
the Fool On The Hill Sees The Sun Going Downand The Eyes In His Head See The World Spinning `round.-The Beatles
Listening to the...
Old or young, tired or wild,
we found the people of Nicaragua to be full of a quiet strength and warmth,
and while curious eyes and solem faces sometimes followed us in place of smiles,
we were on the whole, struck by the generosity and openness of the people we met along the way.
As the bloqueos marched through the streets trailed by hundreds, or sometimes thousands, of people dancing and singing behind them I found myself drawn to the intent gazes of the passengers in passing busses...
Enter Collier county, Florida. A classic tale of two towns. On the one hand you have Naples, the nation’s second-wealthiest metropolitan area. On the other, Immokalee, dubbed by Barry Estabrook (...
"Take us back to sea level!" scream the traitorous, cowardly, jello stick legs that now flap jack in scattered rhythm, attached by pure happenstance it seems to the equally traitorous lungs that...
Time melted under hot tires, as I held my mothers hand, and ran towards the past. In the shade of a palm tree, I parked my wheelchair, closed my eyes, and kept...
With increasing frequency I find myself receiving emails asking how one goes about "breaking in" to the photo industry. I will admit, I have sent those same emails myself. They are important in...
