I came across an old photograph of a man standing in a field. It was a vintage black and white photograph with some water damage to it, creating a few spots with a bit of coloration. That became the sun setting behind this man’s back. I am imagining that it was taken at the aftermath of war, possibly World War I, or the World War, since at that point there was no other.
Nature, the turning of a day, one grown man, at some point somebody’s newborn son…life is what we make of it, and sometimes war has been our way to fight for what we believe in and the idea of life as we know it. We fight for love. We fight for justice. But sometimes and often war is pointless and about power and greed. Above all of this, above “us” – the sun goes down and comes up.

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One Son’s Sunset. (Pen and watercolor pencils on paper.)