This is a picture I took of one of the cleaners at the hostel I worked at in Amsterdam this summer. I wouldn't call myself an amateur photographer. The term amateur implies that you have spent time honing your skill. I'm somewhere between that and a beginner. Is novice the right term?
It kind of shows how I have felt lately: old, worn, weathered. I'm tired of it.
Pardon me if this is cliche, but the storms of life are swelling up over the sides of my little boat. Here is a poem I wrote about it:
Paddle! Paddle! Sharp rocks are near,
Refuge is distant and death is near.
The river rampant, quick and swift
Will not relent and let me drift
Rest, I desire nothing else for me
To sit in silence and tranquility
But the rapids of thought display their power
And erode my joy hour after hour after hour.
There is no break to come my way
And I lose myself day by day.
O God! Reach down and give me relief,
Give me joy in this life so brief.
Amend the thoughts that drive me from thee
And let me rest in your Divinity.
I know the rhythm isn't what is proper, and the structure probably isn't anything they would teach you anywhere, but I kind of just went with it. I hope you enjoy.
Listening to: Pedro the Lion- Achilles' Heel
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