Nothing is sacred
Nothing is sacred
So, give me your soul
Nothing is wasted
On someone like you
Somebody killed me
And tore out my heart, my love
Somebody killed me
Because of you
And there's nothing I can do
The media made you
There's nothing I can do
'cause you don't exist
you don't exist
Just images of heaven
that take me to hell
Images of heaven
Of something to sell
Images of heaven
16 hours and counting till I board for the most beautiful country on earth. Somehow just about everything has fallen into place. I worked an extra 25 hours cutting metal in a hot barn, on top of my regular 40+ hour job to scrape up the rest of the trip funds. A massive bag of film, and about 50 lbs of camera gear should make for a productive trip.
1 day in Paris, night train to Pau in the south of France. Three days of hectic shooting at a chateau looking across a meadow to the Pyrenees. Train to Bordeaux for a day of blissful wine induced stumbling and relaxation. One more train back to Paris for a couple more days of random architectural photography, and whatever debauchery we make along the way.
If I don't return, please forward all correspondence to the artist creepin the alleys around Paris with a bottle of wine, and tripod in tow.
Nothing is sacred
So, give me your soul
Nothing is wasted
On someone like you
Somebody killed me
And tore out my heart, my love
Somebody killed me
Because of you
And there's nothing I can do
The media made you
There's nothing I can do
'cause you don't exist
you don't exist
Just images of heaven
that take me to hell
Images of heaven
Of something to sell
Images of heaven
16 hours and counting till I board for the most beautiful country on earth. Somehow just about everything has fallen into place. I worked an extra 25 hours cutting metal in a hot barn, on top of my regular 40+ hour job to scrape up the rest of the trip funds. A massive bag of film, and about 50 lbs of camera gear should make for a productive trip.
1 day in Paris, night train to Pau in the south of France. Three days of hectic shooting at a chateau looking across a meadow to the Pyrenees. Train to Bordeaux for a day of blissful wine induced stumbling and relaxation. One more train back to Paris for a couple more days of random architectural photography, and whatever debauchery we make along the way.
If I don't return, please forward all correspondence to the artist creepin the alleys around Paris with a bottle of wine, and tripod in tow.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
It will be worth it.
Remember that a tripod doubles as a weapon.
Best of luck to you.