I just finished watching Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus.

Weeeeeird, weird movie, but it got a claw or three into me and scratched up near my heart. The colors and the framing and the wardrobe were brilliant, and the whole dynamic between Diane and Allan vs Diane and Lionel was really intriguing. All I could think was "lol live action Beauty and the Beast!" in a few places.

Anyway. I liked it.


I walked down to the river and sat their for a little while, before. Forgot my camera again. Honestly, I should just scrap the week in the life, because absolutely nothing interesting has happened, pictorially or otherwise. Unless anyone actually wants me to continue, I think I'll just call it quits.

But. The river, right. I watched ducks chase each other, sat with my feet right above the too-high water and swatted gnats out of my face. There were two boys over a bit, on a bench, and the water distorted whatever they were saying into a tenor-bass murmur. And when I walked away from the river, I found where I need to leave my mark. I just have to figure out what it's going to say.

And there's my problem. I don't know what I have to say.