Zilch.

I've lost myself in a swathe of disillusionment. Life can get seemingly ordinary at times, maybe this is why we are sentimental: Desire. We're always wanting for things though not necessarily new things. Just a return to the old can be enough of a new feeling.

These are the last photos I have of my grandmother before she succumbed to cancer. She's holding her first, great-grandchild.

Revelations.

I've decided that looking for beauty in everything is inutile. If I just accept everything for what it is then I'll have found the beauty without having to look. Besides, if you have to focus on one point then you might miss the big picture, and humanity is constantly about the bigger picture.

Almost...

The entrance.

There are times in my life when I desire silence and company at the same time. Only certain people I know can provide me this. Sometimes I can barely deal with myself and my own thoughts, let alone humor someone else's sense of self. It's still too early to tell whether or not I'm ok with my selfish tendencies.



She held on and wouldn't let go. It was probably nothing more to her than a reflex.