Men, women and children
We are but matchsticks
Our flame can be snuffed in a second.
How fragile we are.

Once upon a time in a remote Africain village, the chief would stand on a platform and turning to each cardinal point he would spit in the direction of East, North, South and West, while at the same time cursing his enemies. 
Myself, every morning, cup of coffee in hand, I walk over to the bird feeder to add grain, then I look in the direction of the four cardinal points, being aware of the environment, I give thanks. 

This morning, looking in the direction of California, I give thanks to Mister Eric Kim, a young philosopher-photographer whose words encourage me to write a blog and to ignore Instagram ( as often as possible).