A few doors more

PELIGRO PELIGRO, DOLLAR, DOLLAR!

Invisible Portraits

The last batch was supposed to include a batch of photos I took while in Viña and Valpo. For some unknown reason, the roll came back blank. Completely blank, not a single image survived. Only the following blank space can express this tragedy.

















On the flipside, I remember every single portrait and shot I took, clear as day. If I took your portrait it's imprinted in my mind, and I promise I won't lose it until the Alzheimer's hits. These photos were supposed to be my contribution to all the wonderful people I met and the places I found. I wanted to give something back to you. But, once again, I am empty-handed. I guess, though, al fondo, all the words and all the photos are just a long-winded way to say that I won't forget.

Won't forget how regal my Chilean papa looks cracking jokes at the head of the table, with his kind eyes and his sad smile. My mama doing dishes and singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow in the pale winter light of the kitchen or having a cigarette out the window. 

Ben in the subterranean, with light in his eyes and a road to catch and the world to meet. Leah in the sunset looking out at the urban sprawl, unsure if it rolls to or away from her, Imogen sipping box wine on the beach with the tide trying to reach her tranquila tranquila.

The Scholar

You have learned so much. You have learned great and terrible lessons and you have found beautiful things, but you failed to learn the most important thing of all: that you have a home, and that I love you.

mira lo que m'encontré

doodles of dawgs

We Wanted More

Guess we can huddle the way strangers huddle,

Close, but never close enough.

We’ll chew on fruits that never satisfy,

And theorize that desire must have hints of citrus in it.

You will busy yourself making beasts of

Copper and acai seeds,

Spinning and twisting them

Between fingers that can never be still

And I will busy myself thinking of words

That struggle to take shape,

Spinning and twisting them

Til they make beasts out of me.

Guess we can stare the way strangers stare,

Hard, but never prying.

You have cheekbones that are high and etched of sandstone,

And when you smile it is sundrenched.

But here’s where you look most at home,

Starving beneath the light of a streetlamp and scrounging for a smoke.

‘I have seen Venus!’ you say. ‘She sweats when she hikes up the cerros and the side-street murals remind her that her shrines have been defaced.’

‘I have seen Van Gogh!’ I say. ‘He cut off his ear so that he could hear

the exhales of butterflies, he wants to know what they cry out before they die.”

When my hands fall beneath your gaze

They cease to be insatiable and become things worthy of creation:

Stop for a moment and I will make you something

Yes, a poem you will never read, but oh.

We shall drink the night in, the way strangers do

Untainted by a past or future,

Reveling in our skyline,

In our fragile collaboration

That has neither beginning nor ending.

We huddle, two well-kept secrets in each others’ arms.

well i had a cool camera to use for a semester, it belongs to my chilean family. it is a Zenit Helios 44 M-5. Here are a few shots that I got the chance to develop. unfortunately they are pictures of pictures since the scanner is in valparaiso...

Pisco


student protests on the 21s. I believe they were looking at a clown harassing the cops...

imogen