mountain streams

Feeders for the Schwartz Lütschine. Composition on the landscape oriented one would've been fantastic if it weren't for that pesky cloud.

( Two photos hereunder )

Love Under Capitalism - Omar Sakr

The new joint around the corner keeps changing its name. I get it. I am afraid of growing old. I can’t afford this face for long, this place for long. I still invite people in. The barista wants to know me. I want to trust his intentions, his sup as I sip at what he just made and feel a little more alive. I shiver at the usual delivered by so many smiles. His dimples. Large cap? Desire hissing. Four forty five. It feels wrong to say don’t ask me to be human. This is a transaction only. I need to preside over when I am more than money moving between machines. That’s what all of this comes down to: this is not my first coffee of the day & won’t be my last. I rub my hand over the silver band of my fade and imagine it as his, as a distance closed, as a tug at my trackies. He needs to be talking. To be more than a service. A silence. The cost of this moment is greater than either of us knows or cares to think about for the other. The radio squawks: there’s been another attack. A crack tears through the small café. I take what I have ordered and leave with what I need: no expectation of a return.

Cordite