Tonight, sitting on my porch in the damp twilight listening to the Dexateens and smushing mosquitos, every minute I spend without a camera in my hands feels wasted.
It’s only almost August, not almost January, but I’m making a lot of resolutions in my head right now, or maybe they’re just promises to myself. Tomorrow is always the first day of the rest of your life, after all.
Man, don’t I sound zen and smug. I promise I feel a lot crazier than that most of the time.