Jasper Jeffers

I fetishize the idea of making it simple. Of a room being an expensive couch across from two expensive chairs, a coffee table to hold a cup I drink only enough of. The ability to live simply, to reduce and rationalize the self past the need for complication. To prove that I am capable of existing in drought. Like my ancestors in a desert, on a ship, in a tenement. Kissing the sidewalk and believing it was paved in gold.