I promised the Devil my soul, and in return he promised me that everything I was going to experience hereafter would be turned into tales.
How to capture the world after being raised on Fellini films?
My photographs just occasionally turned around and bit me on the bum.
Time was a blur to me then, and Paris, in all its postcard perfection, was a watery smear of cafes, croissants, and cabs.
Buildings and other objects carry the words and thoughts of those who made them and those who lived in, used, or otherwise interacted with them.
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