We try to make our mark. And somehow every day we do, in however small a scale. We survive the usual struggles even if it means facing our fears once in a while, even if it means standing alone. The grass is nowhere to be seen this morning. The snowstorm is over and the cold hasn't gotten to this plant yet. Somehow I feel cruel taking pleasure in these little half-deaths buried in snow and ice. But you see, we aren't any different. Each day it only continues to get colder.
Ah, 'tis the season to survive.

"Cold"
This photo I took reminded me of his work: "Signs that we exist" Nadav Kander


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