The Waters of Our Time

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I’ve always thought there was a certain amount of good and bad in the world that never changes.  Whenever something bad happened to me, I told myself that there must be some good balancing it out someplace else.  Whether there’s more good than bad, or the other way around, I could never be sure, and I’m still not.  But that’s not the point.  We all have to pay a price for being here.

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Since we can’t feel things fully as they are happening, all we can do is let time pass and try to retrace them.  I guess that is just life – maybe we aren’t suppose to know what it is or why it is while we are in the midst of it.

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I started my morning today reading The Waters of our Time, a collaborative book made by Thomas and Giancarlo Roma – a little gem about life, love, memory, and living in Brooklyn (a wonderful flavor of Brooklyn throughout the book).

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I’ve never spent too much time with Roma’s work, but the use of both a textual and photographic narratives in this book are delightful and evocative.  A redirect for the day, going to back to my project about my life in Denver, and do the best I can I can to coax out some more ideas in the writing.

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I just want something to remind me of this place, so that I know that it was real – that it was mine.

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