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I’ve stopped watching the news lately.  Flashing images of victims aged 5-6 years have rid me of my appetite.  American newspapers I normally read have been left untouched.  I am distraught enough and don’t need to get angry at watching journalists exploit the victims and their families.

And so I go and look for a happier place.  I turn to my pictures.  Not the quasi “professional” looking ones and definitely not the ones of food.  It’s the pictures of… major cheese alert… my loved ones, of course.  I love looking through old photos, a reminder of better times spent with friends & family, when all of us seemed a little less troubled.  It brings me a some peace and for right now, that’s almost enough.

 

 

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