I almost forgot that a few hours ago I woke up screaming. The mind works in mysterious ways. As a photographer or image stealing miser, be it by word or by pixel, its hard to actually be in it, living the life and at the same time documenting it. I dont know if my adventures are fruitful or worthy. They sure as hell aren’t in a terrenial way, but maybe theres some beauty in the artistic vein. And even that to the judgement of the 2 second rule. The Gladwellian ‘blink’ law. So, I turn in, another day closed. Nightmares waiting for me. Even to that deep deadly sleep I go as if I was going to work. No rest for the wicked.