I am nothing, andyouare Everything.
I hope I look back at this one day and fondly remember how silly life as an early twenty something was. OR perhaps I’ll look back and realize I never grew up. Heres hoping.
Lights at the end of long tunnels.
I found this in my wallet, I cannot attest to who wrote it, and it is not my handwriting. More unsettling still, I have no idea what on earth it means. This is true, utterly real life for me.
After considerable reflection one thing was clear; there was no earthly reason why this man was walking towards the dark side of the horizon with his guitar, nor why he crossed our path, but none the less he paused, played a few chords, and than told her he loved her (this man to my friend) and I’m certain he truly meant every word.
The others are just shadows, like the rest of us.
With what final dark magik he did possess, the lone photosmith did wrestle these images from his goblin crafted pikture box, testament to a decent into utter joy and wonderment.
Shambhala 2011
Shambhala circa 2011, wish my living room lamps where so excellent.
