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.