FICTION: All quiet on the Western Docks. Hah no I'm just kidding the DMZ was shut down this week. Companies are allowed to send their representatives to judge the conditions of the working environments they are sending their employees into. No one was sent for me. They don't really care anymore.
I've gotten into a habit of traversing the miles on foot out of the DMZ and towards the Plains where I have permanent residency. It's fun actually, and great exercise. A lot of people do not understand that your attitude fluctuates dramatically as you release endorphines and exhaust your muscles. It's a tendency you should get into more; working out that is. I walked the rail line into the city one day this week to meet up with some friends, and found an abandoned line that diverted to a ghostly power station buried in the bowels of the forest. A dead deer was strown across the metal bars that outlined the train's pathway, heavily coated in vines and shrubbury.
I've re-established contact with the hyper local newspaper working within and without the DMZ, and it's revitalizing - working again. I made some pocket change doing a shoot down 206 of some dancers, and tonight I shot a reception about recycling, and how important is. The turnout was stunning. Maybe someone one day will convince the city to actually recycle. There is hope in this world, too.
FACT: School closed this week for conferences. I went to the NJ School of Ballerinas? I think, to take pictures for my Mom. She paid me. Yay. I also walked the train tracks into Morristown and took some sick pictures of a bunch of random items, including a deer skull that was resting on the cold metal tracks.
I also restablished contact with Morristown Green, and shot a story on recycling, a huge propper reception with people in suits and ties talking about what they were doing to save the environment. I hate how my school doesn't recycle.
"The homeless are proof of the striving perserverance of the human spirit."
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