You are moisture to a parched pair of lips

Take away the straw and I will dry up

like a Californian July.

{JT.}

lxxvia. Cruel as the night

✱Track: U2—Slow Dancing, 1993

lxxv. Bianca

On a road trip around Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.

{JT.}

lxxiv. Anachronistic photobombing

Taken on the 100th anniversary of the Titanic sinking.

{JT.}

A piece of paper may reveal lines and curves and dots and poetry and possibilities and permanence; a computer screen will only display light and pixels and the murderous whims of a single keystroke.

{JT.}

lxxii. Death of Hip-Hop

In 1995 Bomb Hip-Hop Records released Return of the DJ Volume I, supposedly the first scratching album ever released. Don’t know about that claim, but this opening track’s message still holds true 17 years later.

✱Track: Kool DJ E.Q.—Death of Hip-Hop, 1995

lxxi. Soul power

Don’t know much about soul, but I do know this performance moves mine.

{JT.}

The pen that bled in your shirt pocket

spared you from reproach

and gifted you with

a blank page.

{JT.}

lxix. Big Joe

(Source: vintagefatmen)

lxviii. Self-reblog №4

typophotography:

Travelogue

Words: Justin Tan

Photograph: Bianca Müller

lxvii. The other three words

✱Track: Cake—Let Me Go, 1998

❝Poetry is that precious, gorgeous moment when everything comes into sharp focus & then blurs.❞

— Fake Edgar Allan Poe

(Source: pbfcomics)

❝Deeds which populate the dimensions of space and which reach their end when someone dies may cause us wonderment, but one thing, or an infinite number of things, dies in every final agony, unless there is a universal memory as the theosophists have conjectured. In time there was a day that extinguished the last eyes to see Christ; the battle of Junin and the love of Helen died with the death of a man. What will die with me when I die, what pathetic or fragile form will the world lose? The voice of Macedonio Fernández, the image of a red horse in the vacant lot at Serrano and Charcas, a bar of sulphur in the drawer of a mahogany desk?❞

—Jorge Luis Borges, The Witness

lxiii. Self-reblog №3

typophotography:

Blueprints

Words: Justin Tan

Photograph: Crystal Lee