On my way to the airport: I don't know what I am feeling right now, or what I am supposed to feel. My bag got stolen last night from me. A bag that includes my laptop, my camera, my hard disk & my history. Every single photograph that I took was in that bag.
My history was stolen, and that is the biggest theft of them all. How can someone live without his history? Countries can not survive in this world without their history, then what about us? My photography was everything to me, it wasn't the air I breath nor was it the water I drink, it was the reason that I do both. And now the reason is stolen. Someone else is living with it, and I'm left to live with no reason, or with a missing one.
On my way to the airport, the streets are colored with autumn, every leaf on the ground has fallen from its home, just like my heart, I can not enjoy the colors of autumn right now. The yellow, the green and the red are all alike at the moment. On my way to the airport, I wish I could leave the memory behind me, just like how I am about to leave the place.
On my way to the airport I ask myself, without history, how can I create a new one? I just can't.
Listening to: my thoughts..