I have a vested interest, unconditional love, gratitude toward a beautiful example of a grand failure in the system.
Spending quiet, boring, days alone, sitting, thinking, watching life move amongst the dead. Tall grasses swaying, leaves reflecting sun, moving about the breeze.
The land is alive. The buildings are dead.
We all have stories to tell.
Would you like to tell a story?
I came across a woman sitting under a bridge
Crying, sobbing, wiping her eyes.
Her husband beat her, left eye swollen, jaw bruised, her lip bleeding.
She asked if I would take her picture.
So, I said yes.
What should I do?
-Tear it down.
What shall I put there?
-A freshly paved parking lot.
Tear down the trees, tear the buildings down. Pave a parking lot instead.
Personification
Smiling in content; they were. All but one: Pierre Vivante monsieur. He was angry, frowning with discontent. Fellow formations abode. He, too peaceful to associate; would rather be lament. “You are far too dour. There is no reason to be grim.” I picked him up and threw his weight for he has no arms to flail, and he has no legs to walk. What a pity it is to be a rock.
Before cars, before T.V., before radio, before 1500-watt light bulbs, and play station 3s and Nintendo Wiiâs, before kids spent all their time starring at screens, when people read novels for fun, when horses were pulling fire trucks through streets, when doors could remain unlocked, and neighbors would cut each otherâs lawn.
Iâll be showing my photographs at the event in September and hopefully youâll be there, whoever you are. Anyone can take a picture of the Empire State Building. How many pictures of institutions do you come across on a day like today? Theyâre one of a kind. One day, itâll all be rubble and all that will be left are stories, pictures and memories. Many of the people who worked there will be gone, wonât care enough to tell their story and the patients canât speak.
Wish my voice would be heard.
This is passion for something no one cares about; a passion for something at least.
