i left that message in glow in the dark letters on the roof of a building in a forest three summers ago and i went back last week and it was still there. but i couldn't find the canyon i climbed up when i was thirteen, so maybe i made it up in my head, but i swear it was there, and so were all these hollowed out trees you could hide in, and a field at dusk full of fireflies going up. i like what a huge field faraway looks like just when it's starting to get dark, and there's a million fireflies and you understand why they're called lightning bugs, like little zaps and sparks out of every corner of your eye, something tiny and electric in the organic dark. we drove around last night while it was half-raining and found a look-out-point, and big empty fields expanding to a pitch black horizon, and tiny crowded neighborhoods on riverfronts where every single person owns a boat. listening to def leppard and hands reaching out the window.

this summer has been less than epic and i didn't really notice that it's almost over. i didn't even really notice it started. it's been so cold and rainy but i really really like that. i want every summer to feel like the beginning of summer, like june is just starting and i've been hopeful all the time. it's not like last summer which was epic in this sad way, sad in this way that i got hysteric sometimes and i would laugh a lot and not think and see six red foxes in a grey cemetery, slumped against headstones. and then i couldn't wait for it to end, to move on and out and get to the city, and now i sortof miss it, like it was this tiny cute sad chapter of things and i get nostalgic for just about anything. summers especially. maybe i'll just remember this one as calm and sweet and undefined and i'd be okay with that. but maybe it's verging on some hidden epic event, some turning point, something is about to begin.

i like sitting on train tracks and writing secrets on rocks and throwing them, and rickety metal pole playgrounds that aren't safe or made of plastic; forest fortresses and looking up walking distance on google maps from where i am to somewhere i am not. it would take me 27 days and 14 hours to get to portland oregon, 49 days and 3 hours to anchorage alaska. only 4 days and 4 hours to detroit, the great smoky mountains 8 days on the dot. it doesn't seem that long. but it'd take me longer i think because i'd get distracted and stop off the road for so many things and my legs are small. horoscopes are weird, it said my best days for love this month were july 10 and july 18/19. i don't know, i guess i see it.

jessica lea mayfield - for today


  1. (:
    your words remind me of my dreams.

  2. "i want every summer to feel like the beginning of summer, like june is just starting and i've been hopeful all the time."

    your words on summer remind me of what I exactly feel about summer

  3. leaving messages in glow in the dark letters on the roof of a building in a forest sounds like the most fun. i also like what a huge faraway field looks like just when it's starting to get dark. i like how you feel about summer. i like sitting on traintracks, and unsafe playgrounds.

  4. Hello there! Knew and discovered your blog through the following list of a lovely friend of mine. So, as I expected from her taste, I also found your blog admirable as well. Anyway, I only wanted to share this, several weeks ago this friend of mine wrote her blog about another blogger's views on summer, wrote how it's exactly the same way she felt about. But I thought she was talking about a local blogger (Turkish, we are by the way) So, few weeks later while checking out your posts, I came across these sentences and I just thought "This is familiar... from a movie? no, a song's lyrics maybe? no, much too long to be lyrics..." Then I took a look at the comments and saw our girl there, said "alright now, got it, so she was mentioning about her?"

    Nasıl olmuş Ilgın? Kontrol et bakalım, grammer falan doğru mu? ;)

    This last one was not about you my dear. Supposed to be a language called Turkish I guess... :) Anyway, peace, love and understanding!

  5. ...And before I forget, maybe I just mentioned about your oral expressions but your actual quality on this blog I think is your thematic photography beyond the words. I mean, these abandoned places, wrecked houses... I know, it's supposed to feel like a horror movie maybe but it seemed much more magical and sentimental to me which focused on silhouette childhood memories, sad broken families...etc. Trying to describe will surely make them look like some cheap poetry, so I'd rather gaze them magnificence instead.

  6. I know, an unnecessary comment mass from me but I just gotta say: photo #3, trees'leaves and the sunlight. Do you know the British band Pulp and their song (one of their most passionate) "Acrylic Afternoons"? In my humble opinion, that song just suits this photo best!.. Just go listen and combine them, you'll see, especially this part: "Net curtains blowing slightly in the breeze,
    Lemonade light filtering through the trees,
    It's so soft and it's warm..." On the other hand, the rest of the song is not that innocent unfortunately. Actually, the song is about making love with an elderly housewife. So, not so relevant to your photo except where quoted. :) And now, after all I've seen here (I mean photos) I must shout my mouth and should be browsing your flickr gallery next. (with Pulp on the background of course!)

  7. you have such lovely words! and your photos are enchanting

  8. I love finding things that I hid a long time ago. I used to hide beads and other little things that had no meaning to me whatsoever and I used to think that if I ever come across it again, rolling down the road or if I step on it in the grass with my bare feet, it will then be important tome. Looking back, I was silly when I was little.




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illinois, United States
the fabulous destiny of cari ann wayman

all pictures by me unless otherwise stated.
all music is for sampling purposes only. please buy the records. if you are a musician and want your song removed, let me know.