I love it.
After posting the previous post (about culture democracy blah blah blah) I, of course, went out to have a drink. Ended up staying until closing, but not without having some great conversations with Boris (the only other Boris I have ever met) and then Albert.
I return home and, not ready to sleep, poke around the web a bit. I check my flickr gallery, see if anyone has left comments (I'd LOVE an RSS feed for that, Stewart... ;) A nifty feature (one of many) of flickr is to see what pictures your friends have recently posted. Weeeell, it seems danah posted a picture of some Hundertwasser book covers! Cool! I love Hundertwasser. Grew up with prints of his all over my family home's walls. My mom knew the guy actually...
On a lark, I search my own blog, to see if I'd mentioned him here at all, seeing as he had such an influence on my visual development...
One of my rambling, semi-interesting entries detailing a thread or two woven through my life and mind... and heart...
(To be fair, I loved her dearly, and still do.)
The connection of note, for me, in this is that even before my in-depth involvement with this blogosphere and everything that has become related to it in my life, I had a faint sense of what was to come... and yet to come...
