Experimenting with photos, albums, and galleries.
December 6, 2016. Congress Ave. Austin, Texas. Taken on my walk to the post office.
Evening walk around the lake. We’re having an unusually warm and dry winter.
The fairies have been making sculptures with the bike racks again.
When I walked up to the post office, I stumbled across a couple of pianos.
Recently I’ve noticed in movies or TV shows that during a lecture every college student is rapidly typing away on a laptop. As a teacher, I think I would find it very disturbing. I’d wonder, are they taking notes or messaging friends? Are they mentally present at all? How does one even speak to a room of people whose eyes are focused elsewhere? Where’s the physical and emotional feedback when
“The real voyage of discovery is not to seek new landscapes but to look upon the world with fresh eyes.” –Proust
About 9 last night I remembered that I’d seen that the fencing had been removed around Town Lake Park. So AJM and I walked down and took a stroll through Austin’s newest park. We were not alone. Couples lingered here and there under the full moon. We stood at the top of the observation mound and exclaimed our love for Austin.
So close, yet so far out.Or to quote another South Austin motto. “We’re all here because we’re not all there.” Another great sign from the mid-twentieth century motels that once lined Congress Avenue. This one saved and restored. The History of the Austin Motel
I’m biased towards novels that evoke a concrete sense of place. Bram Stoker described Whitby so accurately that I felt giddy with recognition when I saw it. Fiction makes familiar the streets of San Francisco, the burroughs of New York, and the glitter of LA. However, portrayals of Smalltown, USA, tend more toward the metaphorical than the actual. Curious about how other writers set their works in a mid-sized city