And I Think That After Nearly 85

I Picked Up A Camera Because It Was My Choice Of Weapons Against What I Hated Most About The Universe: Racism, Intolerance, Poverty. I Could Have Just As Easily Picked Up A Knife Or A Gun, Like Many Of My Childhood Friends Did... Most Of Whom Were Murdered Or Put In Prison... But I Chose Not To Go That Way. I Felt That I Could Somehow Subdue These Evils By Doing Something Beautiful That People Recognize Me By, And Thus Make A Whole Different Life For Myself, Which Has Proved To Be So.

Photography Was My Choice Of Weapons.

The Guy Who Takes A Chance, Who Walks The Line Between The Known And Unknown, Who Is Unafraid Of Failure, Will Succeed.

And I Think That After Nearly 85 Years Upon This Planet That I Have A Right After Working So Hard At Showing The Desolation And The Poverty, To Show Something Beautiful For Somebody As Well.

I Have Never Known Anyone Important Enough To Consume Me In Anger Beyond A Few Hours. Better To Depart Their Existence Before They Poison Your Own.