Longings for the thick young arms of pure grass!
Gold of April moons in the heart of the holy bed! Joy
of abandoned boatyards, a prey
to August nights which made rotting things germinate. Let her weep now under the ramparts! the breath
of the poplars above is the only breeze.
After, there is the surface, without reflection, without springs, gray:
an old man, dredger, in his motionless boat, labors.”—from Rimbaud - Memory
“photographer leslie grant and warren hill of mississippi records who have chosen to converse through the mediums of photography and music. each day leslie will send warren photos and he will respond with a song, then warren sends leslie a song and she in turn responds with a photograph”—i heart photograph: guest blogger • leslie grant warren hill