I lost my father when I was 9 years old, almost 10. It was so fast. Everything was fine, we had a great day and then he started to feel sick, went to the hospital and never came back. He was 45 and it was a fatal heart attack. It was december 29th, 1991. From this day on, every december is my time to feel sick. I don’t know how people survive around me this time of the year. All I do is listen to Pearl Jam’s Release and feel really bad about my life. Questioning God and all that. I know I had many good things in my life, but none of that fill the void of not having my dad here to ask simple questions. Is that ok to cross the red lights at 2 am? do I have to vote if there’s not even one good candidate? should I spend money buying another lens or should I buy a car and stop taking cabs? do I always have to pick up the road not traveled? And, most important, what should I do with my life?
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| Every time I ask Marcelo to take a picture of me, although I hand the camera all set, it takes him around 975 hours to actually click. And almost every time he chooses to do it while I blink. It really amazes me. But actually I love this pic, although I look a bit drunk (and there’s an empty glass in my hand) it was a really good day. Just to lighten up this dark post. |
