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"I have always tried to live in an ivory tower, but a tide of shit is beating at its walls, threatening to undermine it.” ― Gustave Flaubert

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a hot breeze is coming in my window, I'm more then halway into my second burbon, tired after a long day of work. I almost stopped taking pictures, can't make myself do anything.

I cannot look into the future and am afraid.

talk to me

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I try to understand what the passing of my father changed in me. I am finally beginning to understand how short life is, that I should follow through with my fancies, stopped tolerating nagging or listening to what people have to say about how life should be lived.

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