My father has passed away. I don’t know what to say. It is moment like this when you slip into a loop of thinking about your own mortality. I’ve just arrived back home. He was waiting for me. The moments, the look, the passing from life to blackness is one I can and will not forget. I made the book in his honor and I feel that the Ireland project will change its objective. I feel it. I am lost in a ship. Without a destination but sailing on some divine creature called wind.
Mark M.
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