Details

In most people’s vocabularies, design means veneer. It’s interior decorating. It’s the fabric of the curtains of the sofa. But to me, nothing could be further from the meaning of design. Design is the fundamental soul of a human-made creation that ends up expressing itself in successive outer layers of the product or service.
-Steve Jobs
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the details in the vases
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I'm in Washington D.C. with the mother, and it's such a beautiful city to reflect upon the design of things. I love the chairs, wallpaper choices, even down to the spoons that the Fairmont has chosen. It's beautiful and holds everything I love about design. The combination of things ordinary to create extraordinary rooms, clothes, etc. Even the city itself is a combination of ancient and modern design. Constantly changing. It's all about noticing the small things, the details.
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the siding on the house combined with the coloring of the house and the roof
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All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable, which makes you see something you weren't noticing, which makes you see something that isn't even visible.
-Leo Strauss
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the way the light comes through the trees
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I'd suggest listening to:
-Barton Hallow by: The Civil Wars
-I Walked by: Sufjan Stevens
-Keen on Boys by: The Radio Dept.

It'll do you well in the scheme of things.

Secret Passions

I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvelous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one’s life.
-Oscar Wilde
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I went to Chicago yesterday. I like it there. It's not too big, but it's not small. I like that everyone is going somewhere to do something of slight importance. I really like the art museum. It's nice there. I love art. I mean, that's probably pretty obvious if you either: know me, read this, or both. I love everything about art.
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Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.
-Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
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