Where does time go? One would think that coming out to the desert would slow things down a bit from the hustle and bustle of the central American life, but in fact, I believe it has sped the clock hands further. So then there is work. There is the battle between one's self and the things that prevent one from fully expressing one's self. The maze, the labrinth. Most of my reporting goes to youtube, where I'm leaving traces of my existence here and there. But many who know me know that. Awww. Random thoughts of rambling throughout the mind. Preoccupation of just how and what paths would best fit doing things the best way. I wonder if Michealangelo ever had days where he worked extremely hard but only chipped away a small amount? I wonder if there were days when he chipped away at all? Or days when he raged and threw hammers and distressed? I'm certain of it. And now I feel just a little bit better.
This will change. Therefore, I tell you, this begins one of my many efforts to document the autobiographical detail of my life; the influence to do so brought about by some of the greatest human beings I may ever know.
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