Blurred Moments.

We spend so much time trying to reclaim our youth. Trying to recapture moments of childhood, when everything was easier to understand. Time is spent grabbing at pieces of memories taking the chance to retrieve our lost innocence. My moments were spent making up for lost time this weekend, taking in breath taking moments of brilliance and beauty from those around me. A night spent in the 80’s of bad hair, even more horrible clothes, too much ballad rock, and a moment of our song.
“Help me to decide
Help me make the most
of freedom and of pleasure
nothing ever lasts forever
Everybody wants to rule the world”


The stars were out in all their glory, as the group raced along asphalt under feet, and under tired rubber and metal to a moment taking place that was bigger than any of us could hope to be apart of. A night spent under cardboard boxes, a night spent in a displacement camp. This is our movement; this is our time to make a stand, to make a difference. I always said when I grew up I wanted to do something or be apart of something that will change the world, I have found that it is not one great big event, for some people it is, not me. It is all the little things that make the difference.

Scavenged bagels and fruit filled our stomachs and warmed our bodies from the night before. The morning sun came over the horizon kissing our skin awake. There were a handful of kid things I kinda missed out on. Either I wouldn’t let myself be a kid, or I just never did. After we disbursed from our make-shift refugee camp, we spent time in the grass; our only care was when the zoo opened. Bubble kisses and tree conquering make for the perfect Sunday morning.

There is nothing out there to the best of my knowledge, except the moments we make and the friends we take a long with us and let in.

*note: most photo credits go to Mary