From the Point of View of a Catfish, Another Girl, and Me

we have all been with you before and carried ourselves bravely into your town. i, your girlfriend, i, your best friend, i, your stranger. hoping to find you in a house, with orange walls, where you hang our paintings and the poetry we sent you. Hoping we’d made it into those little plastic bags full of letters beneath your window. hoping to find your eyes not all ruin and runways by now.

we were hoping to get the chance, for the first time and again, to give ours hearts to you on kitestrings. and you would say, only that you found them caught in a tree somewhere and rescued them gently from all those branches and birds. thank you.

photograph by kanwee harichanwong, bird

Meet Dylan

she's from the mountains. one ear doesn't work. and she will be living with us here in philadelphia in the event that you stop by...

I Still Have Never Seen You, And Some Days, I Don't Love You At All

i should be the first to admit my "prayer life" leaves something to be desired.usually feeling more like talking to those white complacent skies on snowy days, veins running through hands, or myself. at other times its quite practiced and ordinary and the last of many things i would rather not be doing, along with loading the dishwasher and making contributions to my college annual fund. but. friends. in the event i find myself in conversation with someone unimaginably frightening and great and beautiful, someone most commonly refered to as God. and, in fact, not just speaking with myself and my windows, these are some things i imagine or rather hope might be spoken between us...and if you will, excuse my dependence upon the voices of others for this exercise.

-please remember me, by the rose bush laughing, with bruises on my chin. iron and wine
-please give me time to decipher the signs, please forgive me for time that I've wasted. nickel creek.
- Come home darlin', come home quickly. come home darlin' all is forgiven. pedro the lion .
-I've made alot of mistakes. I've made alot of mistakes. -sufjan stevens
-you're still playing for a love you'll never find outside these arms of mine. pedro the lion
-love is a dress that you made, long to hide your knees. love to say this to your face, I'll love you only. -iron and wine
-if you would shine your light down here, I promise I'll reflect it right back at you. -copeland
-I will try and fix you. -coldplay
-lord, we married young, stayed where we came from, gave those children everything we had. will you stay with me, in my time of need, though it seemed we had such little time for us.-ryan adams
-we have time to start all over again. -copeland.

*photo by emiliano severoni, pray

Sunday Pulls it Children From their Piles of Fallen Leaves

the fall i lived in paris, i picked up leaves everyday. the yellow ones i would gather at the bottom on the esclator, let them go at the top to slide down. it would make parisans smile or scoff at their day and the defiance of those trees to match the grey undergrounds. my sister used them as her debate block. ginko trees have the least evolved of leaves with their long, unbranched veins. when the wind blew through the esclator shaft, the leaves would get stuck in my coat pockets and my hair. i loved coming aboveground to be greeted by those darwin-loving, golden resiltiant trees. it was wonderuflly comforting for a girl like me who grew up jumping in my grandfather's leaf piles and scrapping knees on branches. the helipcopter ones i found in the park across from my apartment. the big rough ones with black spots are from scotland. there are a bunch i cant remember finding. i think you should know the best thing i ever gave you was that book of leaves. when you were missing that season somewhere across equators and oceans. i didn't want you to forget what autumn looked like, dear friend. it was the best present i've ever given anyone. i thought you should know.

*photograph by david scott, late night veiw from work, for more go to http://www.lomography.com

Come Home Darlin, Come Home Quickly, Come Home Darlin, All is Forgiven

To Whom it May Concern (and I suppose God is concerned),

I'm sorry i didn't pay attention in church. i couldn't keep up with all the songs in the books with those really thin pages. i know, my fingers are clumsy. i couldn't sing them with my low range anyway. i kept thinking about those mountains you made in north carolina and about my spine that was starting to hurt. i know, i have bad posture. but the old church walls were really great. besides, rubbing fingers along incense prayer covered stone is right up my alley. i sat near one of the big columns on purpose. i was, though, a little worried because i don't think you could hear the rain with those high ceilings and they kept my friend outside who hadn't dressed up and admittedly probably not showered. the crucifix was a little dramatic, i grew up methodist. but i would keep the part with the bread and wine. god know...you know i needed a drink after all that.

then again i guess you knew we were going to need something as dramatic and gory and commonplace as a drink, after that service. that day. god, that month. and much more often than those food pyramids suggest. maybe it wasn't really a practical joke in spoiling your best friends' appetites, with the whole bit about the body and blood. i dont think it was. you must have known i need reminding alot.
i dont mind if you call me ash or darlin.

love,
ashley

*photo from Lomographic Society, colored bubbles on leg, for more see http://www.lomography.com