Pretty much since I’ve known her, Amy has been collecting things to photograph: She has a collection of her own trimmed fingernails dating back to the early 90s (never missed one!), a collection of things Miles put in his mouth when he was a baby, a collection of all the lint collected from our clothes driers in this house and the last… For my part, I’ve been under strict orders to put a newspaper over the sink when trimming my beard; the clippings are dutifully slid into a small box in the bathroom cabinet labeled “Scot Small Beard Trimmings.” Today, after three years, I finally filled the box to capacity. As you dig down through the box, you can see the accreted layers as evidence of my beard’s transformation from nearly all black to nearly all silver. Now what happens? Either I’ll be relieved of the responsibility, or will be issued a larger box.
Music: Modest Mouse :: Dark Center Of The Universe