Monday, Oct. 11, 2004 - 1:50 p.m.
Desire.

Charlie has paper hands. Every fingerprint a novel. One palm the story of the universe, of his universe. One palm a sacred song. But Charlie keeps his hands hidden. He loves his winter gloves. He sits on his hands in the summer. Keeps his arms folded and his hands tucked away.

And if his hands were to touch you, would you be annihilated by their intensity, by the stories they tell? Would the words be gravity, taking you down? You need to read, little by little, to work your way in, dancing in braille. Charlie needs you to read, to hold his hand firmly, to share his gravity before he can put on his glasses and read your paper heart.

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Hobbies. - Friday, Feb. 24, 2006
The doormat said Welcome to Stockholm. - Monday, Dec. 19, 2005
No. - Saturday, Nov. 12, 2005
Walking. - Sunday, Oct. 23, 2005
Missed. - Friday, Oct. 14, 2005


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Image: Cindy Sherman Untitled Film Still #66