I have not written any entries in a long time. I never thought that submerging myself so deep into the realm of photography would diminish my desire to write. I’m drowning in thoughts of photographs and I hardly ever think in words now. Just images. It’s alright, it’s okay. It doesn’t make me less intelligent. Or vapid. But it does make me a little bit crazier. Day. By. Day. I am becoming something entirely different. I’m writing screenplays and that’s the most writing I’ll do. They say in screenwriting, “Show the emotions, don’t just write them.” So I don’t think novelistically anymore. I’ve been the busiest I’ve ever been. I still want to make time to do nothing, shoot the shit with some friends, stick my toes into the icy ocean, and complain about silly things. Is it still evolving if you turn into a version of yourself you’re already familiar with?