Im awkward mostly,
and rather cynical, photography has become my life support, at home behind a camera
and alive in front of one, watching films in the dark with and with out sound,
staying up all night painting for the rush of it, laying next to the train tracks
and day dreaming, living in who I was two years ago, not adjusting
well to change while at the same time praying for it, the one who makes every
one laugh, not quite made for this world, a rather restless gal, with a quick tounge
and deadly sarcaism, who can be found dancing to The Cure in the dark room,
or hanging out with the art posse, a zine maker, a revolutionary,
a dreamer, a traveler, a squater, a dumpster diver, who loves to stomp
the night away under a stobe, moving to the sounds of factory's,
a firm follower to Crimethinc.,
just trying to get by.
I think I give up, right wezzle?
The ban has been set, it is illegal to take photos in New York subways.
My shots dont kill, photography is not a crime.
Art is not terrorism.