As I sit here enjoying the rainIn my carThat I'm paying offWith the weed that's been paying offAnd the music that's been playing onI can't help but hear of Youknocking on my memory Alive in my third eyeYou remind me that- I have to do something with where I've been placed in this life. Thank you I know you still enjoy her too. As she gave birth to you. But I know you too have come to grips-Gav...

Urban photoshoot with Paula 

products of our circumstances,or at least that’s what they say. but what are we born withthat they can’t take away? is it only our exteriorand internal D.N.A? and everything elsecan get molded like clay? can it change day by day?fuck, do we even get a say? what does it even meanto have it “your way”?i want to believe there’s something else.something beyondsomething that remainsjust as we camein...

  How can an “evidence of memory” end up in a garbage bin like the picture above? Or next to it? When does a photograph stops being the proof that something happened and ends up being an annoying piece of paper with a picture on it? What is that which drives people to give up their whole family, inside of half torn-down houses, hanging from frames on the walls, for over decades?  You stir up t...