Hey there,
First of all, I wanna say Thanks to you, who stopped by my gallery and took part of your time to read this. I truly appreciated your support and even though I can't see you I know you are there. Okay, so things had gotten a little bit clear now and I decided to stop thinking too much about everything I do or I'm supposed to do. I think I could say I'm almost in the middle of my first year in Medical School or at least I love to think I am. On the other hand, I truly know now that I'm never gonna quit Photography, not even if I get to be the busiest person in the whole world, which is stupid to put on like that. Everyday I have so many different subjects to think about and I can always bring on more and more problems but I'm not complaining, I know it's part of life. I'm sure I'm not the only one who have thought that when things can't get any worse there's always something that for sure will probably makes feel everything is gonna fall apart. Just more bullshit! we can't spend the whole life asking about what type of stuff should we doing, fighting for or having instead of the ones we got. I don't know, this is losing part of the sense I started writing about, so I better stop soon.

I certainly believe, the big problematic and sometimes painful thing, called Life, it's not that simple like it seems to be. I have to admit that sometimes I wish that I could sleep for a thousand years or so, and skip all the problems and avoid deciding about the right choices, but deep down I know I would be missing all the fun. Asking for a desperate way to disappear is nothing else that an coward and way too easy solution to deal with problems, I'm trying not to do it like this anymore. And now, I'll end up this not fancy a boring journal with a not-that-type-of-love poem that really got my attention. I hope you like it or at least you can get something from it.


A Person, A Paper, A Promise by Dr. Earl Reum

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.