My 07/22/25 postcard captures a bagworm suspended by a single thread, its cocoon of leaves and silk swaying gently in the breeze. A rough bundle of life, it blends so well into the background that most passersby would never notice, but once you spot one, you see them everywhere. Along Campus Boulevard, next to Onate Hall, the trees were full of them, hundreds of tiny, silent architects hanging from the branches like ornaments. It’s a quiet kind of marvel, built from instinct, patience, and whatever bits the world offers.
My 04/23/26 postcard is a look inside a flower, revealing a warm space where light…
My 04/22/26 postcard features construction on Summer Ave, where the road is closed and redirected,…
My 04/21/26 postcard is an orange rose, mid-bloom, holding light in its folds while the…
My 04/20/26 postcard is a worn car rim fitted with sharp, chrome lug spikes that…
My 04/19/26 postcard is a rose caught mid-opening, its petals layered with quiet precision and…
My 08/18/26 postcard is a group sitting across the street from the plaza, the noise…
