Didn’t I ever think to be authentic collecting words, snapping photographs exclaiming I am enamored with language and art
when honestly, I am merely a fraud to what I love. My hands aren’t stained with ink, my eyes aren’t trained to learn new techniques paper is not my friend nor is a roll of film tossing around in my bag of nonexistent records that I actually love my hobbies.
I feel that I am not quite an owner of my interests, stealing passion from others and wishing they were my own.