So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
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My love from Greece to you and your nice family!
Your blog is still (after more then 4 years) one of my favorites. Every visit is great and inspiring. And yes I know, you know I told you already, I like the huge CREATIVITY.
Don't get me wrong, I realy think this. Perfect mix.
O.K. I stop here.
One question, do you think you should get more comments. How do you meager if people like your blog?
Carola, thanks for that. Comments don't fuss me too much. There seems to be a steady amount of viewers, and the initial point (to share recent photos of Henry and Ezra with distant family members) remains relevant. I still like taking photos, and seem to need some kind of creative output, so it fills a gap, whether anyone is reading or not.