dasha

we forever walk past them as though they stained the streets like puddles of oil
dismissing them like plastic bags that float about the concrete never to give them a second glance
these are the people that make my days more tolerable; when i hear their stories of times forgotten and things taken forgranted. they see all that we ignore.

ok i am done.

here's some pictures:
my dad

me doing what i do best

my baba's crazy cat

dirty vent at a medical office