On the day.

My eyes keep falling upon these discarded objects. I have a weird habit of leaving the object there for a day or two; if it is still there after that waiting period, I am allowed to pick it up. I have been doing this for years and years. The objects are almost always very small, mostly two-dimensional. In some strange psychomagical moment they take on a poetic life.

Over the past two weeks, I have been methodically photographing these objects and returning them to the discard heap. There is great pleasure in unburdening myself of things filling boxes and weighing down my “mouvances“.

I always wonder about coincidence…

To blank with love.

To blank with love.

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