Today on the news there was the long list of people who died this year. At least the people who the newscasters deemed worthy of remembering on TV. Iconic (mostly American) personalities. Pavarotti. US soldiers. Norman Mailer. Ike Turner.
Something inside me feels numb about all this passing, all this death. I feel this way almost every New Year's Eve: depressed and despondent. With Benazir Bhutto's assassination, and remembering Those Who Died, it makes me wonder what kind of people are we as a human race?
When I look back at my own image from New Year's pictures, there is almost always a vacancy of gaze, a palpable blankness. I kind of hate celebrating New Year's Eve, but then regret if I "stay in" and withdraw. Next year I'd like to be on my way somewhere else. Last year I was on my way to Cape Town, South Africa. Next year we'll be on our way to Peru hopefully. I don't know.
Like the sky outside my studio, I feel grey.
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