cityography: I spoke often to the statue of Joan outside the Eglise des Réformés, asked her if the birds were bothering her or if she thought we’d have an early spring.  She didn’t answer or smile for my photographs and I didn’t think to pose with her when the tourists came in the summer, when they thought I knew the way to the beach (just follow the salt-smell, I wanted to say, throwing a wrist towards the line of blue on the horizon) I told her I thought she was very brave, what with the rain and all She whispered (coy), I passed through fire.  One day I went inside the church to pray, but I didn’t know the words. The organ was playing and beneath my feet the whole structure swayed. This was no trick of the earth God laughed. I watched a man lie on his back on the old stones, ecstatic. I bathed my hands and went outside impure. Joan smiled. I haven’t seen her since
p1r0: Black tree on Flickr.
foxmouth: Jökulsárlón by Chris Zielecki
mpdrolet: Morgan Silk
vlynx: (via Cedar Trees, Japan)
le-desir-de-lautre: Gustave Courbet, Beach near Trouville, 1865. Oil on canvas, 54 x 64 cm, Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, Cologne
novh: Sunrise over MA 2012 
inneroptics: Pierre & Valentine-Andre Devambez
“Dedicated to all fishermen,” aptly named “The Fish.”
View from White Point Headland (at White Point Bluff Park)
In the subway train going downtown, Gregory Muenzen | on tumblr