So long winter, hello spring.
I grow a beard every year, from the first of winter, to the first of spring. It’s a reminder that even though I live somewhere without black and white seasons, the days still pass.
Easy to get lost in all this sun.
George the Poet. This day is his birthday.
Met a lot of folks since living in Los Angeles, but he stands a bit taller than most to me.
This is a photograph I took of my friend Drew. His beard is filled with wisdom.