Including a poem someone had sent me too:

It was difficult learning to breathe. But it was even more
difficult learning to forget. Though in the end I learned
both how to breathe and forget. Sometimes I juggle one orange
while I do this. Breathe and forget. So it is ok to be
here where the rose is torn. Where the streets are a jungle
of burnt glass and the world has blood in it’s eye. Breathe
and forget. It’s what I told the newpaper-boy. For a christmas
tip

By Patrick O’Connell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell

photo: by Graeme Mitchell