Driving today to the dog park and then back to photograph dead end streets for a planned album about longing, because this was one of the few days when no cars would be parked there, and getting perhaps one good shot out of over a dozen, I was then feeling grateful for my tears (metaphorically, I wasn’t crying), as I was passing an occasional homeless person on the street, a cafe or two filled with lonely souls. Grateful for my breath, you say?
For breath, for life, for everything.