Sometimes I need a quiet place. The world feels discouraging and lonely lately. Not all of it, but a good percentage. Each day can drone on and on with more bad news. Stories of how one group of people puts their ambitions over another’s sense of humanity. Entitlement. Me First. America First. Makes me sick, and sad, and really discouraged. Not just that. Not just the externals. Art is also a struggle. A struggle to stay alive and be alive and express something that represents something more. That there is more to life than this. That there is still beauty. It reminds me of this and grounds me and keeps me whole. It gets me through the day. Each day when I photograph I see something beautiful about the world.
My youngest is still in this wonderful place of wonderment. Spending time with her is like basking in the glow of imagination; a place where bugs are very important and magical. She is magical to me. So vibrant and alive. So full of fascination with the little things.
Spending time with her in the late afternoon sun at a park reminds me of peace and magic. Magic still exists. I wish to live in this place of magic, now more than ever.