. . . I jump in and out of this writing process to attend other issues. Recognized in the flow between images and words: What I did, do, intend for the future is for me alone, acknowledgement of grace. Is beauty comparable to Ansel Adams, “The Southwest” possible? Yes in a way, it is for me, prayer, I cried at first seeing certain private images of his prayer. I first became aware of my personal, visual, futility when man first landed upon the moon. Oddly I shared that front page with a capture of a whimsical young man using binoculars to view The Newport Jazz Festival through a hurricane fence. Segue to the present. I discovered on Information Clearing House images of such horror I finally accepted that I can cry for others no matter their state of decay and absence of life . . . we are One Family of Mankind destroying the Earth and one another for what?