The world gets overwhelming, so I take photos to document the moments and people I don’t want to forget.  My memories, however, are like organic file systems that may be chaotic or lonely, so I write.

It would appear a vague notion that working towards a specific goal or title makes it real; except with omnipotent guidance, no one self-categorization is sufficient and therein lies the chaos.  I embrace the whole of my presence and those whom have influenced it.  I’ve never wanted anything more than my kindred spirit group to make those organic filings meaningful or mend the brittle and frayed ones. 

It’s why I still talk to my grandparents, my mother and all of whom are deceased but were the molders of my mind’s time.  If you happen to see me talking to myself,  I’m with them.  Just wave or say “Hello” to get my attention if I hadn’t acknowledged you.  Also, I love babies and old people. Everyone in the middle should tread carefully.