I come from a huge stack of old comics piled high in the corner filling the room with a musty smell that lingers long into adulthood.
I come from a pillow fort I built in the hour before my dad came home again and my mother braced to greet him.
I come from skinned knees, swollen lips.
I come from sneaking cigarettes in the backyard, getting dizzy, hoping not to puke.
I come from the Sex Pistols and the Ramones.
I come from a brother far bigger than I and angry twice as strong.
I come from the hope of escape.
I believe that in the mind anywhere is possible and that if you can muster the focus and lose the fear your feet can begin to move.
I believe a strong left cross trumps a solid right jab.
I believe we are all capable of the most enormous cruelty and it is only fear that keeps us from eating our own.
I believe that women understand the world better than men because they caress with their fingers while men poke with their thumbs.
I believe that while ignorance is bliss a true happiness is best found in a quiet conversation about ideas.
I believe photography is more true than real life because of its pace.
I believe in my wife.
I believe in my son.
I believe we are all in trouble.
I value quietness.
I value moving slowly.
I value thinking it through.
I value pillow forts and comic books.
I value my wife and I value my son.
I value their happiness as much as I value my peace.
And the future is like a glass drained recently of milk, clear insofar as you can make it through the film.
The future is truly thin, yet runny and it has been in my back pocket and I have been sitting for weeks.
The future is in the hand of my son and I worry because his room is such a mess.