I’ve been under the weather for the past couple of days, which has put a crimp on doing anything that requires my brain, like using my camera or computer. I felt the obligation of my Daily Photo pressing on me, even with a fever, so I roused myself off the couch to get something, anything. I stepped outside for the first time in two days, pointed the camera up into the madrona tree (a good default subject), but I was so not interested. I walked back inside and there were the rumpled sheets of my living room sickbed encampment. Good enough, and much more pertinent. Post 591 (that’s contiguous days, mind you--I don't dare break this streak) was done.
When Imogene Cunningham was raising her kids, that was when she took all those wonderful photos of her unmade bed. It’s all she had time for.
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