Interruptions

I'm sitting at a desk in my hotel room in Toulouse, France, putting the final touches on my presentation for tomorrow: "Interrupting Violence: The Photography of Adi Nes and Zion Ozeri." It always happens, without fail, that I work and write so much better when I leave my own space and sit in a room with only the barest of necessities. With everything removed, I always feel again the joy of writing. And knowing that it is not my world, out the window and over my left shoulder, becomes the perfect interruption to the violence of my mundane life.