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Imagine trees that blossom tulle gowns-come-laterns…and free-spirited Mena Suvari types hugging beat-up cadillacs…and little kids making paper swans on the beach.

Needless to say, I am totally in obsession with Tim Walker’s picture book called…well…Pictures.

It’s inspiring from beginning to end and, as much as I cannot believe my own words, worth the hundred and twenty-five dollars.

The thing is, it’s art.  Inspiration like that is priceless, and I don’t think truth, like the truth that Walker captures, can really be valued in dollars.  I guess pictures like his either move you or they don’t, and you either forget them or you think about them and chew on them and they change your life, if only a little bit.

So I’m going to Oxford in the fall for a year and when I saw the book I immediately thought I could rip up every picture from the book and line my room with them.

But my girlfriends gasped gasps of unspeakable horror and let out blood-curdling screams when I told them that.  Do you think it’s bad to rip up a book if you only do it so you can admire each page each and every day?

I don’t really understand why a book is sacred and can’t be ripped up.

Please enlighten me.

They ripped up books in Dead Poets Society!

And if Ethan Hawke can do it then so can I!

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