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Bali Journal 4: Detritus

I am a dark shadowy form crouched at a smallish desktop in a palatial villa in Ubud Bali. The room is dark for the most part. It is Sunday night. My girlfriend Donna lies naked reading in a giant bed dressed in fresh white linen with pillows adorned with  fresh white and yellow plumeria which will serenade my senses in short order. She just snapped the reading light out and I hear her sweet voice whispering some pleasant inanity. The mosquito netting hangs suspended in grey relief from the light of my laptop. Aaron Marcelino and I were roadside today

Grace

In any life, in the reduction of the actions and choices that take a person on their journey, after all the stuff of a person’s existence is burned or rotted away, what remains is something quite remarkable. For lack of a better word you could call that something grace. It exists everywhere. Yet one cannot hoard it. The more selfish that one is, the less of it will remain. I crave grace, because in it, is an abundance and flow that changes and converts a world (and myself) from being entropic to regenerative. Human beings are like buckets with holes

Resurrection

Those that know me know of the beliefs that motivate and drive me.  It is probably no accident that I became a photographer. It is due to an innate appreciation for light. We all have it. Some of us simply choose to pursue and embrace it more than others. Having grown up in a religious household and been afforded a Parochial school education by my hard working parents, I learned early on that religion no more puts you in communion with God ( Which is also known as the light of the world) than standing in a garage makes one

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Bali Journal 4: Detritus

I am a dark shadowy form crouched at a smallish desktop in a palatial villa in Ubud Bali. The room is dark for the most part. It is Sunday night. My girlfriend Donna lies naked reading in a giant bed

Grace

In any life, in the reduction of the actions and choices that take a person on their journey, after all the stuff of a person’s existence is burned or rotted away, what remains is something quite remarkable. For lack of

Resurrection

Those that know me know of the beliefs that motivate and drive me.  It is probably no accident that I became a photographer. It is due to an innate appreciation for light. We all have it. Some of us simply