In Photography, Writing

Hospital visits are hard. Repeated hospital visits are harder. I’m not the first person to watch a loved one slipping away and I will not be the last. It’s not like anything you can ask someone about. It’s not, what questions are on the test?, or how do you ride a bike? no. It is something everyone goes through and is something that is different for each and everyone of us. Common to all be different for all.

This is out of my wheelhouse for existence or non existence and it is hard.

Rather than sit and think. I chose to drive and see if there was anything worth seeing.

I took highway six south to Galveston away from the hospital and it was depressing as hell.

The strip shopping mall with the faux stone walls, the planned life, the nice, safe sameness of gated communities, helicopter and lawn mower parents protecting their young from reality and making reality all the worse for it. The suburban blight stretches further and further down Highway 6 each and every damn day. Sameness upon sameness upon sameness. Nothing to see here, don’t move along, stop and bitch about your daily commute to get back to the blandness. A person could probably give up and walk into any of the communities along the route, walk into any house and sit down and become one with the family without either side knowing anything was different.

Damn it all.

I did see something worth seeing. Here it is.

Can you see the sadness? The tragedy?

Either somebody lost a Chuck Taylor...

...or something found a body and then left the Chuck Taylor behind.


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