Since I have been working on this gallery, it’s taken me on a ride I do not think I was prepared for. Memories bite and regrets shread. Tears are the salt into the wounds and self-pity is the poison that finally kills.
I am 45 years old and have been living my life under the idea that fate and faith will carry me along the way. Consequences be damned, because there was a promising and golden future ahead for me.
Maybe fortunes are for fools and memories might be the only treasure we’re left with. What happens when those are taken?
Is love lost once it is proclaimed? But I no longer have a right to it or claim to it’s rewards. It’s grown cold and this heart has become cold green stone.
