Evening Jog..

To the man playing the drums on the side of the street, life begins and ends at his drum set. He forgets all else as he gives himself in to the music—his eyes are closed, his long blond hair blows in the wind: he is in a different place. He reminds me that life is not about what you have, it is about what you make of what you have.

My feet hit the ground with a steady rhythm. Like the beat of a heart, each beat reminds me I’m alive.