Look around little darling
Do you know who I am
I'm as much your reflection
As I am my own man
You need not to defend love
Life's the house where we live
We cannot see tomorrow
Only feel what we give
We talk and hear about loneliness
The cold blue hunger of the soul
But if this world has redemptiveness
Why ever should we be somewhere
Where there's nowhere to go?
These photographs were taken eight or nine years ago during early or late winter, I can’t remember, in Malvern, Pennsylvania. We were looking for houses then and this was at the property we thought seriously of buying on Warren Avenue. It was a lovely place, but oddly designed (too small rooms, too few bookshelves, but a veterinarian-style chamber for showering your dogs and professional “working garage” space). The next-door neighbor was our local celebrity M. Night Shyamalan, who I think had The Sixth Sense and Signs under his belt then. It was cold and the wind was blowing, but nothing like it is now outside the window behind my back. The snow is hanging around frozen and more, apparently, will be arriving tomorrow or Monday when I need to drive Jane down to Washington to participate in a rather interesting program. Gene Clark suits my mood and these images like no other.