About days

I can name you three hundred things I bet no one notices about this photo at first glance. It’s not the art, I swear. Perhaps the geometry to it — the calming and yet humbled face of the child in the bottom right quadrant whom I assure you is much a pain than hungry hungry Allan Baldwings off whatever movie commercial I just made.

Take a moment to reflect if like me you’ve wasted a greater part of your life in the joyously enchanting phase we’ve grown to name teenage-hood — toying about with decommissioned trucks and firearms.

And again if you’re keen enough you’ll notice the bullet hole just above and right of the child’s head in the photograph.

I don’t suppose I’m allowed to pen more of this.