Walking has become increasingly more and more difficult. I told my bones that MRI smilies are inappropriate. The elbow crutches are a work of wonder. I am now off the dirt bike. My eyes to the sky. I know I will ride it one more time. “Fall in love with something and let it kill you.” Charles Bukowski. It took me years to understand what that one meant. I’m stupid. I became a writer and a photographer. If I can get my ass to Vegas, I’m at the blackjack table. The one with the girls and the tits. I am not allowed to say Vegas. I am not allowed to say tits. I don’t remember the rules. I usually break my own.

I am going to make a file for a new work and I might decide (eventually) to sell those photographs: I have not made up my mind. Photographs From My Jeep. – Tim Barrus