Yesterday my friends’ father died.
And whilst it doesn’t impact me directly, it’s yet another piece of sadness that someone has to carry on top of what they were already carrying.

Recently I’ve started reading a book about Kurds and it just opened my eyes to the tragedy of this nation. As well as miracle that it is.

With my own father suffering from cancer I cannot help but feel a lot of sadness myself. It’s not always present, or at least it’s not always seeking some attention from me, but I know it’s there.

I’ve been listening to Moby’s phenomenal album Destroyed in the past two days as I shared a song from it with a girl I recently met online and we became friends. Even though song I shared was Stella Maris, from the album I especially love the song The Day.
It is about a day Moby spent in the hospital with his dying mother.
She passed away from lung cancer in 1997.

Before The Day I used to contemplate what it’s like to lose a parent listening to The Ocean Spray by Manic Street Preachers.
This phenomenal rock anthem was written by James Dean Bradfield remembering time spent at hospital with his mother and it’s simply a reference to a cranberry juice drink given to patients in hospitals in UK and Ireland.
James’ mother died in 1999.

I’m not even sure what I want to say with these words.
I had this idea for a short story that would start with Moby in the hospital and the main protagonist going on with his or her day and the idea was to simply refer to some moments in the pop music culture through the main character, but as I often get ideas for a story and almost never end up actually writing anything, I thought I will at least capture what I felt.

I’ve decided to write more often and I suppose such decision must inevitably come with some spontaneous spurs of inspiration leading to somewhat chaotic posts.
Yet I believe there’s value and beauty in them as they too capture a moment in time, how we felt as a photograph does.

By the way, I’ve also bought new camera lens today. I hope to capture some moments visually too. Although words are my favourite way of preserving time and feelings.

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