I was sitting in my sisters Child Time center the other day waiting to take black and white pictures of the kids there, when I started to think to myself: seconds pass by one by one. And though I don’t know why I thought of the exact phase, it startled me because it opened so many thoughts and curious accusations. I thought to myself that this life, as you so unwilling wake in the morning and faithfully lay down as the moon shines in the sky, is realistically a time bomb drowning down by the seconds that sweep by everyday. As one second passes, another approaches and again falls into time and space; inevitably forgotten to the timekeeper itself: death. Every second, your bones brittle away and you skin microscopically deteriorates and old age starts the moment that this earths oxygen is breathed into your slow, tiny lungs. The more I sat there and thought of life and death, I came to realize that there is no such thing as life. Death is life and life is death. The more you think of the many reasons to contradict it, the more you lose your footing on this faded line. The reason you wake in the morning and do things that excite you or slave away for money that buys you your excitement is because the thought of death cornered in the back of your head burns the will that drives you to do it. Because when you die, there’s no telling what there is. And since for now you’re alive and breathing in the seconds that kill you, you would do anything to take that burning sensation out of your head. What I think though…it is not because I’m crazy. It is not because I dream, live, breathe, eat, drink these shit thoughts. It’s solely because I was just bored for those forgotten thousands of seconds sitting in that treaded chair. I’m not crazy….at least not that day. That day, I was a photographer of black in white….