I remember being this age. I thought I knew everything. I knew that I knew more than everyone else, at least. I felt like the world was waiting for me. My boys, my friends, were the only thing that was important to me.
Man…I knew nothing back then.
There is a story here…but I’m not telling what it is. Please feel free to write a comment explaining the story you see in this photo. I immediately felt the presence of a narrative that doesn’t match the reality at all, but this is a photo that is worth the proverbial “thousand words”. Well, I think it is.
What do you think?
I’m stuck not knowing how to react to the city in which I live. I walk, daily, past people who subsist on very little. They live on 1 000 000 Rupiah (that’s $100 US approximately) a month, sometimes less, sometimes more. I walk past open sewers that are sometimes smelly and sometimes revolting. I walk past mansions that exist next to shacks. Mercedes driving past men pulling home-made carts.
What does all of this have to do with a flower? There are no parks but lots and lots of green. There is asphalt and trees, and because it’s always summer (or seemingly) the blossoms on trees and vines bloom and die all the time. I’ve been here a month and I’d almost gotten used to it. Leaves fall off trees all the time, but it’s never Autumn. I wonder if I’ll get used to all of it. I hope not. I hope that I’ll always be shocked, saddened, enraged, curious, and hopeful.
Good morning. I hope you have a great day.
Oh…and have a I told you that you’re AWESOME? If not, you’re AWESOME!