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between the production meeting at reel art press (where I got learned about an Oxford comma) and lady Lucy joining me for a night at the opera
a one hour london interlude
yesterday
i kicked about for an hour, photographing unsuspecting people preoccupied with their stoopid-phones.
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PULL
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SE7EN
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this man was preoccupied with preaching hellfire and brimstone
he was so occupied he forgot he was wearing HOLY (sic) socks: HA!
never trust a preacher in sandals, in the winter.
in fact, if you're not Jesus, don't wear sandals and preach at people at all
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i photographed professor Gunter von Hagens once, doing a live autopsy of a reindeer, for a christmas issue of Time Out Magazine
the smell of formaldehyde was intense
the professor told me about how you only notice a change of smell: not a constant smell
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"preoccupied with pictures"
photographer unknown
to me at least
could be written on my gravestone (IF I was going to have one...which i am not)
btw. this is not me in the street, as my own son mistakenly thought