Perhaps...

The pain is excurciating.
If i didn't know any better, i would say that i was absolutely certain that something inside of my head, growing, expanding, squeezing out my brain, soon to spill out of the corners of my eyes, pour through from my nostrils, and push through my ears - will evolve from a rolling rumble into a trembling scream.

Perhaps it is this:

Perhaps for some people, in order to first find their passion they need to suffer, just to uncover what is of prime importance, and then the suffering itself can create emotional energy i.e. passion, which then fuels their work. 
~ Margot Hattingh


After a long talk with sis, sister of sis, and mr. fyst, i discovered that within myself stands a confused little girl, wanting everything in the candy store but not enough money to buy it all...


Or can i put it all on a store credit?


There is an inner torment. Twitches of regret for not having moved forward in leaps and bounds from many yesterdays. Disappointment in not having moved from wanting to doing. Yes, i have accomplished a lot in the past few years, but am i happy? Why not? Will i ever be?


Art is indeed suffering. The evidence is in my latest series of images. But i need to transcend that. I need to make my art something profitable. Something viable. At the same time, i need to stay true to the very essence that makes my work different from everybody around me. Unique from everybody else who wants to be a photographer, filmmaker, a writer. I know it's there inside of me somewhere.


As I stumble around like a newborn calf, rubber legs and wet from the womb, my eyes slowly adjust to the new feelings inside of me. One apprehensive step in front of the other turns into a trot, then soon, a gallop. Body free, mind at ease, the future - an open meadow.


Right now, the ground is moist from the morning humidity of uncertainty.
Eyes slowly adjusting to the possibilities of tomorrow, and learning not to fear today.