It will go, but it will return. It will fall away and the dark will grow, but it will rise again. I am ready for the light, I am ready to chase it now.
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It will go, but it will return. It will fall away and the dark will grow, but it will rise again. I am ready for the light, I am ready to chase it now.
Typewriter Series #406 by Tyler Knott Gregson
I love tattoos because they are only as permanent as we are. As we fade they fade and they too will start over new one day. Here is Nigel, fresh after being born onto my skin, and yes, I meant for him to be right side up to me. :)
Typewriter Series #405 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Hello everyone who entered the first annual Treehouse Photography Wedding Contest giveaway! We received over 50 entries from all over the world and read each and every story probably 20 times. Some weddings we couldn’t do because we were already booked, but we loved every story and cannot thank you all enough for entering. So, we finally chose a winner with a story we loved and that worked perfectly for our schedules!
We are happy and proud to announce Katherine and John as the winners, who will be tying the knot on the Kitsap Peninsula on a little island outside of Seattle, Washington!
As a side note, ANY of you that entered that still would like to talk to us about shooting your wedding, we’d be happy to offer you a discount if would still want us! I know after not winning the contest you probably hate us, but hey it doesn’t hurt to offer :)
Thank you again, we are so humbled and moved by your amazing responses, and choosing was the most difficult thing we’ve had to do.
For us,
there is only
one wish:
to be
adventurous pioneers
and
find ourselves
at the end.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
Typewriter Series #404 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I, I have discovered, am an unsortable sort
of man. I open my mind to the pages before me
and the words fall out. They drip
like extra paint onto extra walls
or blood too rebellious to stay inside the confines
of racing veins.
I, I have discovered, am the sort of man that must write
to keep locked tight the breath in his lungs.
Every word has a soul inside me, a body and a life
and don’t they all deserve a chance at living it?
How can I stop now and leave widows of words
as those they found love with were destroyed by
and buried beneath the bombs of my apathy?
I, I have discovered, am the exact sort of man
that fixes, or tries, the broken around him. I pick up
the pieces, whatever those pieces may be and wherever they
have fallen from, and try to find the picture they once made.
I am the painstaking and careful tying of a popsicle stick
to the broken wing of a broken bird.
I am the breathless wonder whether or not
she ever finds flight again.
I, I have discovered, am the sort of man that cannot help
but believe. In myself, in every single body else, in something
bigger than all of this, in hope and promise and the
unstylish and embarrassing dream that we can still be
exactly who we have always wanted to be.
I, I have discovered, am an unsortable sort of man.
If it’s filing and sorting and finding order
in the orderless that suits you,
when you come upon me to file, I offer now
my most sincere apologies.
To attract
a girl,
it seems,
that humour
moves them.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
Typewriter Series #403 by Tyler Knott Gregson
We must
never forget
while we sit
wavering of
courage,
to have
Hope.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
Typewriter Series #402 by Tyler Knott Gregson
