the heavier breathing. the overall sense that things are as they are. the idea that let sleeping dogs rest becomes the norm. it must add up for there comes a point in our lives, all of ours, where we turn into our parents, or what we thought they were. we start to sound a bit like them, our tendencies leaning towards the actions they displayed as kids. we see the similarities, draw the lines, but perhaps this is us trying to relate and explain our actions and words.

its tough to pin down where we are coming from. what we are really doing day in and day out, our point or mission in life. it is easy in small moments to define a general direction, im eating, im trying to find a girlfriend, im saving for a house…but the larger things seem murkier. so we go in circles. we repeat what we think was working, smiling to others, working the system, spinning the days. it is lucky if it aligns with your interest we tell ourselves. it is lucky if we can succeed in one are or the others we say. forgetting to even imagine a greater goal, we simply live.

and its enough. there is nothing more to find or discover that you wont along the way. in a way we all will find meaning in it, laugh to ourselves, cry, feel and fuck. each route like a book or path, no better or worse but simply the one we choose or was chosen. there is no cloud better then the others, one ray of light that shines brighter then the other, there is simply the ones we are looking at. like an artwork, it comes down to the attention it gathers, the dialogue it provokes, the meaning we make of it. for better or worse it is all the same, like cookies in a jar, stars in the sky or sand on the beach. each wave coming in at different speeds and times but waves all along.