Running Through the Zen Garden

Screen Shot : Animation - "La Grande Roue"

2011-12-06T12:22:00.000-08:00

Turnaround

2011-08-29T21:10:00.000-07:00

In 2010 I had the pleasure to act as creative director and producer for the music video "Turnaround". I am happy to announce that this same video has gone on to win multiple awards since it's creation. Please enjoy.

Nano

2009-06-06T16:28:00.000-07:00

The following iPhone application game "NANO" was created by the artist Adrian Johnson out of Colorado Springs.

NANO

If you do not have access to an iPhone to download you can still watch his video example on his page. Enjoy, I will let his work speak for itself.

Back in the world again.... and out....

2009-06-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

Vertigo Art Space sits at the far Northern Edge of Denver's arts district on Santa Fe Drive. There are just some spaces that you enjoy and this is one of mine. Occasionally, I just find myself sitting there watching the world, quietly.

Last night it was First Friday. The weather was generally warm which meant there was a mass amount of artists and onlookers roaming the streets, gallery hopping, drinking and watching the events that can happen on this night.

A brief heavy rain had just hit the street which at first flooded the gallery with people that were trying to stay dry. A literal deluge of semi wet human beings crowded into the space. The rain stopped and the people drained out the door, leaving a sudden calm. The sun broke from the clouds and streamed through the large windows. The sun rays lit the delicate porcelain sculptures that hung on the walls in a new fashion, adding depth with shadows. The gallery door was still open and the sound of cars splashing along wet streets became rhythmic. Through that veil of rhythmic sound another sound began to build, this one man made, and I realized that across the street a couple of musicians had begun to play inside of a box truck that had been converted into a stage. The sound was familiar to me, touching and hypnotic.

We closed the gallery at 9:00 but the streets were still active so I chose to walk, look for old friends, observe what I could of the galleries that still had open doors and enjoy the street performers.

Finishing my walk I passed in front of the box truck. The musicians still played but this time I recognized them from a performance I had seen a few years ago. At the time I had seen them they were known as "Orwellian Math", they are now known as "The Construct". I found myself profoundly touched. The performance I had seen a few years ago had pulled me and the rest of the people that had crowded into a small and obscure venue out of our chairs. It was the end performance for what had been a cabaret type show. A surreal mixture of performance art and video work. It was really the only performance of that entire show that had completely moved me.

Moved me enough that upon seeing them again I was extremely happy. Happy to know they have continued on, played on. Moved me enough to remember that people who do what they love to do affect us, dare us to dream again, challenge us to care and wake us up when our souls become listless.

Rip - A Remix Manifesto

2009-05-17T15:32:00.000-07:00

I have always loved the Creative Commons Copy-write. Since the moment I began playing with remix music and sound I found it a relief to work with music that was easier to license without a heavy concern of having some corporate giant of a record label come after me. Organizations that embraced a new era of creative exchange like Magnatune became my staple for source material. With them I found great relief in realizing that more of the money that I spent to license that music went straight into the hands of the artists instead of being lost in the black hole of middle men.

Recently, I went to go see the documentary "Rip- A Remix Manifesto". It is magnificently done and worth downloading. It gives a good overview of the issues that have been plaguing many creators since the Copy-write laws began being mutated to benefit major corporate giants instead of the artists and scientists that they originally were created to protect.

BackStory

2009-05-17T08:52:00.000-07:00

My work is often a collage of what sometimes may seem like chaos to some at least during the process of creating it. I will admit that I often will take off on multiple tangents. Research random thoughts and ideas. Be influenced by dreams or the comments I overhear made by random strangers on the street. In some ways I am a sponge for chaos. However, that build up of chaos often becomes what eventually becomes a form of architecture for the work, a background of a piece or the backstory of a character.

Backstory, in writing or acting you always consider the backstory. The history of the character that makes him or her react in a certain way to their present circumstances. The things about the character that the audience may not know but which ultimately make the difference in why that character is who he or she is.

Backstory, for the future, what are we leaving for them. Those who come after? Our influence, our pain, our love, our passion, our knowledge. What backstory do I create today, for myself, for others, for every being I encounter and all those who cross my path.

Did I live as I should live? Did I consider anyone other then my own self and my immediate wants? Did I mend the problems that others left behind so that the future could be free of that which I was forced to deal with? Did I consider the backstory, not only of where I come from but what I leave behind?

The piece I work on now is about that. The backstory.

Beaufort Wind Scale

2008-05-26T15:44:00.000-07:00

I have been focusing on creating animated pieces that react to live wind data gathered from NOAA RSS Feeds. In order to show a progressive change in the animation that reflects different forces of wind I have decided to use the Beaufort Wind Scale.

This scale gives me twelve different stages of wind force and a description of the effects of that wind upon the environment that I can then incorporate into short animated image sequences.

Beaufort Wind Scale

For those interested in a bit of nautical history the Beaufort Wind Scale was created in 1805 by Sir Francis Beaufort in an attempt to standardize the wind and weather data recieved from mariners. Otherwise mariners were left with the subjective weather observations of individuals, thus making it hard to get a clear depiction of the possible conditions of the sea.

Wind Horse

2008-05-13T18:44:00.000-07:00

Along with my research and exploration of nautical wind data and oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico I have been working on animations that include horse imagery.

Is this a completely unrelated theme? I do not think so. The horse after all is another form of transport. To ride one full speed through an open field is to experience the feeling of wind. There is a connection.

To solidify this connection I came across the term "wind horse" used in Tibetan buddhism. In this context the "wind horse" refers to a type of tibetan prayer flag. These flags are hung outdoors to flutter in the wind. The intention is that the prayer will be carried by the wind horse into the heavens.

When I think of wind I think of its universal quality, unconfined nature and it's ability to cross all borders. The idea of a prayer being sent into the wind is, at the very least, affecting my thoughts.

SkyTruth

2008-04-22T23:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, it would be impossible to assume that with the destruction of so many oil platforms that there was no spilling of oil. The following organization tracks environmental change and impact using many of the same technology that geologist use to gather data for oil exploration.

The following information about Skytruth was obtained by their website.

SkyTruth promotes environmental awareness and protection with remote sensing and digital mapping technology. We provide stunning images backed by scientifically robust information about our changing environment to stimulate changes in habitat protection, biodiversity conservation, and sustainable resource management. We design and conduct our projects in close partnership with environmental groups, local planners and resource managers to complement their work on a broad spectrum of environmental issues.

HISTORY

Throughout the 1990s, working in the private sector as a geologist who used remote sensing as an exploration tool, John Amos became increasingly concerned by the mounting evidence of human-caused changes to landscapes and ecosystems around the world. He began to think that images of habitat loss and the spread of human influence could be important not only as a source of scientific data on environmental change, but also as a powerful tool for communicating these changes to the public.

SkyTruth results for the damage to oil and gas infrastructure from Hurricane Katrina

Wind and Oil

2008-04-22T23:31:00.000-07:00

My interest in wind, the ocean and my experience of sailing has led me to research the oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico. While I am taking a look at the 109 oil platforms that where destroyed in Hurricanes Rita and Katrina I can see the irony in the term "Wind Power". The very force that we could harness for our energy is the same force that can bring these massive ocean built structures to their knees.

Hurricanes Destroyed 109 Oil Platforms

Wind / Man / Movement

2008-04-13T11:49:00.000-07:00

In the last posts I explored some examples of reused ocean structures. Remnants of war produced ocean structures that were abandoned and then re-inhabited by others, modified to the new user’s specific needs and purposes.

The following site gives some insight into the vast amount of oil platforms situated in the Gulf of Mexico. It also discusses the effect of mother nature, namely in the form of Hurricanes, upon these massive structures.

Offshore Oil Platforms

So it seems that the power and effects of the wind does not leave me alone, even when I have left the sailboat behind as a mode of transportation. The wind may not push my car or bus down the road but it does rip the oil platforms from their anchored positions or sinks them under the oceans fury. Then, the price of my gas increases, and I may be left standing still. Weather, yet again, has dictated movement.

Offshore Radio Pirates

2008-04-07T23:43:00.001-07:00

Offshore Radio Pirate
Offshore Radio in 60's UK

Sealand

2008-04-07T23:04:00.000-07:00

Sealand

Interview with the Prince of Sealand

Movement/Man/Data

2008-04-07T21:53:00.000-07:00

Movement is a constant fascination for me. How man deals with movement. Animation as moving abstraction.

Our desire to move ourselves out of our known spaces or our determination to stay within our known and supposedly controlled environments. Both extremes fascinate me.

When I used to go sailing weather was key to movement. It determined when, if and how we moved. The relationship to my environment and everything around me was constantly on my mind and the minds of everyone on the boat. Days would be spent waiting in anchorage's for weather to change so that the trip could continue. Life was no longer controlled by the instant gratification of our desire to move.

Movement posed risk but so did staying still. For to stay still in the wrong place could be just as detrimental to our proposed goal, just as dangerous to our well being. It was a constant shifting of choices, when to stay, when to go, when to stop and where.

I would plot the next days passage nightly, usually trying to have at least three stopping points available and then still feel like I was ignorant when halfway along the passage the Captain would ask for alternative possibilities to our original plan. At those times I was scrambling for that knowledge through scrolled nautical charts or radioing the passing tow boat captains for their local opinion.

Nautical Bouy Data
Digital Navigational Chart System

A to B, Story 1

2008-03-31T14:15:00.000-07:00

I had stayed later then anticipated at an evening event I attended. It was a Friday.
My strategy of getting back home consisted of taking a route I knew well, at least during the day. However, the first bus I rode had a minor 5 minute delay, which in turn led to me missing a transfer route, which made me wait for one hour for the next bus. No big deal, nothing to be done but wait.

At 10:00 the next bus came by. I stepped in, the smell of marijuana hit me at the door. The brightly lit interior revealed four people plus myself. All of them, except me and, hopefully, the bus driver, apparentlly filled with their personal choice of intoxicating chemicals.

We traveled for a few miles, the bus filled. I am always facinated with humanity, even in its inebriated intoxicated forms. A large gentleman climbed on board and lounged out close to the front. He talked to people as they boarded. I couldn’t hear what he said. Two stops before my final destination a young strung out boy got on. He was complete ego, vicious. The large man said something, the young ego cocked his head and paced in front of the other, spat out threats, moved to the back of the bus, a barrage of unsolicited verbal threats spattering like uncontrolled gunfire to random victims. His focus staid on the large lounging drunk man.

My exit stop came, I walked to the door, right between the large drunk and the vicious youth. Doors opened, I stepped out and down, behind me the angry youths bark of “Mutha....... gonna kill you!” was silenced by the sealing hiss of the closing doors and the growl of the engine as it pulled this box of mobile madness down its destined route. My neighborhood street silently sleeping in front of me.

From point A to point B.

2008-03-31T13:58:00.000-07:00

I have concluded that on average I spend a bare minimum of 3 hours a day on a bus or waiting for a bus. Public transportation, when taken as your main form of movement creates strange psycogeography. You are forced to interact with sections of your city that you may normally skip over and you are forced to allow the system to dictate your daily route and time schedule.
The very practice of getting through the city to the campus that I have class in, my workplace or other places I frequently visit often turns into a strange examination of human movement and society. A study of separate neighborhoods and social systems as well as an observation of psycology (both my own and those riding with me).
The act of going out on an evening excursion becomes a strategy game. If I leave at X time I will need to take X bus, walk through X neighborhood for X amount of miles in order to arrive at home. The strategic planning will include taking into account the possible difficulty and dangers of such an expedition and may even determine if the event is worth the risk.
Denver is, for the most part, a safe city. Still, it is a fact that all populations have their seedy side and the movement through them, from point to point involves enough risk to need acknowledgment.
Movement is a risky endeavor, physically, mentally and socially. Yet movement is not only necessary but inevitable. Everything moves, shifts, changes. Nothing is ever still, at least not in the nature of the reality that I am aware of.

Manuel De Landa

2008-02-23T15:34:00.000-08:00

“We live in a world populated by structures - a complex mixture of geological, biological, social, and linguistic constructions that are nothing but accumulations of materials shaped and hardened by history. Immersed as we are in this mixture, we cannot help but interact in a variety of ways with the other historical constructions that surround us, and in these interactions we generate novel combinations, some of which possess emergent properties.” Manuel De Landa, ‘A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History’

The insights of Manuel De Landa in his book ‘’A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History’ are becoming highly inspirational for me and my research. The more I contemplate his writing the more I find my work evolving with his thoughts in mind.

De Landa, in comparing the creation of urban centers with the biological manifestation of bone mass, states,
“The human endoskeleton was one of the many products of that ancient mineralization. Yet, that is not the only geological infiltration that the human species has undergone.
About eight thousand years ago, human populations began mineralizing again when they developed an urban exoskeleton......”
“This exoskeleton served a purpose similar to its internal counterpart: to control the movement of human flesh in and out of a town’s walls. “

The following sketches are part of a possible animated work that is exploring individuals existing within social and cultural structures. The work is a metaphorical reference to our created social structures as “hive” while at the same time an expression of our inner structures or “skeletons”.

Skeleton Hive

2008-02-23T15:33:00.001-08:00

Hive Structures

2008-02-23T15:22:00.000-08:00

We-gyet

2008-01-08T17:11:00.000-08:00

A book entitled "We-gyet Wanders On" was my favorite book when I was a child. The stories where always fun and the art work, to this day, amazes me.

The main character We-gyet is, well, all of us.

There is something significant in a synopsis of that book that I found online. I just feel like posting it at the moment. Nothing more.

http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/displayProductDetails.do?sku=5767061

Synopsis

The legends collected here are the ancient stories of the people of Ksan who have lived in northern British Columbia for over six thousand years. We-Gyet is the essence of every man's frailties exaggerated into gentle humour or ribald laughter. His adventures always end in disaster. His blunders and tricks changed the face of the earth, and the shapes of many of earth's creatures. We-Gyet was a creator - by accident!

The Clock World

2007-11-15T00:37:00.001-08:00

My latest animation in progress is entitled "The Clock". It is a subconscious reaction to the concept of time and a world that is ruled by an agreed system of time keeping. This thought snuck into the piece while it was being created. Perhaps it was the fact that I listened to two Radio Lab programs about the subject of "Time" while in the midst of the narrative content. Or perhaps it is a reaction to an existence being dictated by deadlines that are both self as well as socially imposed upon us.

The piece is still in progress and should be a self standing work that also supplies me for needed imagery that I hope to incorporate in future projects.

Next Set of Characters

2007-11-03T09:31:00.000-07:00

I have always loved sculptures in their raw clay form. The material gives off a sense of life that is hard to reclaim after the piece has been through a firing. Using these images in digital media pieces allows me to hold onto the fluid nature of these characters. At least to some degree. Of course, the photograph itself filters the piece as well.

Nothing documents "now" perfectly. One moment a piece is made the next it is remade, remixed, newly made, always "now" but never the same.

the Jerusalem Cricket

2007-10-24T20:26:00.000-07:00

Past work....

2007-10-22T21:43:00.000-07:00

It seems that past work tends to relate to future work. For that reason I have decided to post this link to a project I created last year. The animations are marks drawn on paper and photographed one at a time until the pages are filled. Sorry for the small video size. It is a large video, 15 minutes, so the download is a bit overbearing at larger sizes. A more in-depth description of the piece is on the page it resides on. I will try to post a better version of this on my web page in the future. Enjoy.

Making Marks

Shadow Puppets

2007-10-15T13:09:00.000-07:00

These are some examples of modern as well as more traditional uses of shadow puppet imagery.

Negativehate
Shadowlight Productions: Ambrosia of Immortality
Shadowlight Productions: Making of The Wild Party
Shadowlight Productions
Wayang Kulit

I had mentioned an influence of mine being shadow puppetry. While I have a strong attraction to the general look of shadow puppets I believe the attraction is metaphorical as well as visual. The idea that our perceptions of reality may not be as solid as we would like to believe.

I do not think my animations will be completely based off of this look. However, I do find myself strongly attracted to this imagery and the people who use this imagery to tell stories.

I also find myself intrigued by the description I found of the Bali dalang or puppeteers. Their multidisciplinary approach to their work seems very similar to the activities of a modern multimedia artist.

This description touches as well on the fact that the dalang would travel from village to village and were not only performers but a sort of third party that would tell stories that would help a community with their local issues.

the following description came from
http://www.worldartswest.org/plm/guide/locator/shadowpuppet.shtml

The dalang, puppeteer or shadow master, asks the village about the local issues that they are facing and then chooses a story that illustrates solutions. The dalang tells the story, manipulates all the figures, interprets characters and voices for each, and produces sound effects punctuating speech and movement. The dalang also sings, cues the musical accompaniment, speaks several languages, and blesses the performance and surrounding area with mantras.

Micro Macro

2007-10-15T12:20:00.000-07:00

I am finding myself struck by a statement in “A New Philosophy of Society” in which DeLanda talks about “the matter of special entities, in both the biological and social realms, that seem to operate in a scale-free way.”.... “On one hand, genes and words, are more micro than the bodies and minds of persons. On the other, they can also affect macro-processes: genes define the human species as a whole, and words can define religions commanding belief by large portions of that species.”(pg.41)

Again, I find myself interested in the concept of a micro / macro world. The many individual parts of the massive structure.

Within context of my current creative research it is the idea of an assemblage of mini stories or designs to create a larger story or visual structure.

In relation to my social thoughts it is a concept of seeing others as myself, a connected mass of humanity.

In relation to my personal views of the universe and what little I know about it. It refers to dissecting particles down to the smallest level, to a quark or smaller still, in which the particle you have found is the only particle left, the building block of atoms, air and all materials of the universe. Upon finding that particle one actually finds the largest particle or the blanket fabric of that universe.

In relation to my poetic side it is the feeling of floating on water. In which the sky and the sea, water and air are massive, overwhelming and alive. Greater then me and never ending. I, a mere seagull, floating on a horizon line.

web site

2007-10-13T23:14:00.000-07:00

My web site is up and running.

www.tbalogh.com

Markus Popp (Oval) Textuell

2007-10-01T01:13:00.000-07:00

Example of glitch music and microsound

Markus Popp

the Jerusalem Cricket

2007-09-21T21:18:00.000-07:00

Finding myself at a loss when I returned to the Recycling man project that I began earlier, I contemplated scraping the sketches shown on this blog. A combination of not knowing where I was taking the current imagery and being distracted by new ideas was overwhelming me.

The project was ultimately a multimedia study of “Memes” so I returned to the base description of a Meme.

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Meme:

A meme, as defined within memetic theory, comprises a unit of cultural information, the building block of cultural evolution or diffusion that propagates from one mind to another analogously to the way in which a gene propagates from one organism to another as a unit of genetic information and of biological evolution.

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I then pulled out my sketchbook in order to try to determine what I was going to do with the imagery. Upon opening up my old sketchbook I came across an entry that mentioned Jerusalem Crickets.

The first Jerusalem Cricket I came across was in Northern California where I worked as a gardner. Digging through the black garden soil I was shocked when I came across the odd insect. Roughly the size of my thumb, it laid curled and unmoving. Its swollen body was colored with the yellow and black stripes of a wasp, its legs those of a cricket and its head large and disturbing. Even after being dramatically uncovered by my digging it didn’t move but just laid still in what seemed a hibernated state. So I covered it back up with soil and left it alone. Learning later that they were harmless insects that usually live underground and not considered a pest I continued to leave them alone when I came across them.

The old entry in my sketchbook was talking about when one observes ones thoughts and emotions from a somewhat detached state. I had used the Jerusalem cricket as a metaphor for unformed thoughts and described them as “something not of me, outside of my soul but within my skin. An oddly wedged creature that lives curled on my spine by the base of my skull.”.... ”well hidden but so vulnerable when found.”

That old entry, that left over “meme” mixed with the current idea and became an element that moved the imagery into a new direction. When looking up the Jerusalem Cricket I found its alternate names. One, “the old bald-headed man”, fit my recycle man image perfectly. So I went with it and related the character in the sketch to the hibernating underground cricket.

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Jerusalem Cricket:

Stenopelmatus fuscus
Jerusalem crickets (genus Stenopelmatus) are a group of large, flightless insects native to western United States, along the Pacific Coast, and south into Mexico. Because of their large, human-like head, they are commonly called niño de la tierra (Spanish for "child of the earth") . They are also often called potato bugs, or alternatively the old bald-headed man.

secondSketch- Recycled Man

2007-09-20T00:33:00.000-07:00

firstSketch- Recycled man

2007-09-19T21:29:00.001-07:00

The first layout of a design idea using imagery of recyclable material, rusted auto parts and trash. Where the character is made of the same materials as his environment. A product physically and mentally of what those before him left behind.

The First Entry

2007-09-15T23:32:00.000-07:00

I rode the bus.
An urban youth fell asleep next to me. His head was encased in headphones, blaring rap so loud that I understood the words and I wondered how the boy could sleep through the sound. A constant blaring mantra of street existence, pulsating him to sleep, engulfing his subconscious.

I wore a black leather jacket and a baseball cap and for some reason I thought that made me invisible, a blank canvass walking for others to paint their impressions upon. If I committed a crime they would report “She was wearing a black leather jacket and a baseball cap”. From then on I would wear cocktail dresses and never be caught.

I don’t smoke but this was a day that it would have made sense. To carry the burning slow suicide stick with me, constantly aware of the closeness of death.

I watched a homeless man sitting on a bench, walked by a very tan man asleep at the bus stop. listened to the business men chat as they passed us all in their pale blue shirts and dark blue ties. Found myself wondering who was crazier, the man sleeping at the bus stop or the men with matching dark blue ties. Then the thought came that perhaps I am the crazy one because I actually ask myself these questions.

My walk took me to “The Market” coffee shop with it’s small tables and deli cases full of flaky pastries. Drinking coffee outside on Larimer street under a street clock so that I would not be late for the only appointment I had, a lunch meeting with an old friend.

A gentleman with missing front teeth, bruised skin and a crooked stance told me he had AIDS and begged for money. I told him I didn’t have any. I lied, for I juggled three quarters between my fingers in my pocket as I spoke, knowing I needed the change for the bus ride home. Then I wondered “Why do I give people money sometimes and not others?”

It was a strange day, one where the lines of poetry sung in my head describing the world around me in private melody. Without a book to write in the prose just danced around and narrated the street before me, placing stories upon the characters. A private dialogue that will never be heard or read or recited.

A man, grungy and tall, wearing a dark blue wind breaker and a baseball cap moved sideways towards me and growled “Hey gorgeous”. His movement, that of a predator. His smile, a dark scar that lifted just enough above his canines to resemble a snarl. I met his eyes briefly, just long enough for him to slightly step backwards. A game of body language. I nodded , acknowledged his presence and kept moving. He fishtailed behind me for a few feet after I passed. A shark in dark water. If I had been bleeding or had walked with a limp he might have attacked. So primitive.

Perhaps that should have scared me, but it didn’t , probably due to the crowd around me, walking with me, the illusion of safety in the presence of strangers. Instead I laughed to myself, if he had done anything I would have told the police, “He wore a dark blue wind breaker and a baseball cap.” All other details I had already forgotten.

Three quarters of the central city passed before me. There was an old man playing the clarinet. He has played here since I was a child. When I was sixteen I took pictures of him, thinking that I was being unique. Then one learns that he has been there since the beginning of time and every photography student takes pictures of him. He was old when I took pictures then, he is ancient now, gaunt, thin with pure white wispy hair, still playing the clarinet. More famous then any of the professional musicians I have ever known. More famous and more photographed. Everyone who lives here knows of him, the homeless, the street gypsies, the business men and the dishwashers.

I was almost to my destination when the same gentleman with AIDs approached me and begged me for money.
“Didn’t you just ask me over at the coffee shop?” I asked and he looked sad and forlorn and ashamed and we moved away from each other but I thought to myself, “I should have asked him if I could buy him lunch.” However, I had to keep moving, towards my only scheduled event of the day, my lunch meeting.

Arriving at the steel and glass building that contains my friends office, I felt the immediate change upon passing through the revolving door. The walls smooth concrete, the air in the lobby cool, the elevators sparkling chrome, the floors polished marble, the security guard dressed in a gold hued suit. Eighteen floors to Hitachi and a wall of glass with locked doors. A little intercom with a maroon button that I push to let them know that I am on the other side of that glass and would like to be on their side, with my friend and the people wearing suits to look at the pictures of her daughter that line her cubicle.
We went to lunch, talked of what we have done and what we are planning on doing. Three hours of stolen time where friendship held our attention until the power of data systems called her back to her cubicle and I strolled back to my wandering.

The stroll led me through the echoing convention center hallways then past the massive bronze sculptures that reside below the glass archway of the theater. It ended with me buying cereal and milk at a supermarket and waiting with a man in a wheelchair, both of us holding plastic grocery bags, for the bus to come take us home.

My friend and I had talked about diversity. That there can not be diversity if there is fear. How else can one really “see” a city except to accept it’s chaos and humanity without fear. How else can one experience life?