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Marcus's Friends and Family Update #5: A life in pictures

I've got a huge backlog of updates to share, so this newsletter will be very visual-based to help us catch up quickly. After all, a picture speaks a thousand words.

Brisbane

I visited Brisbane to go through every single material possession I own and decide which ones to chuck out and which ones I could bring in a suitcase to Sydney. I also found plenty of photos from when I was evidently much more cute

Sydney

Philippines

Photos from Canada

A brief interlude. I think it's no mistake that I stumbled across this poem while in Canada, which renewed my appreciation for nature.

Trees

by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.

Sydney Continued

I'm nobody! Who are you?

by Emily Dickinson

I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us—don't tell! They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!

Friendsgiving

Fleeting is this world, growth and decay its very nature, things spring to being and again they cease, Happy the marvel of them and the peace.

— The Buddha

And I'll never let my son have an ego
He'll be nice to everyone wherever we go
I mean, I might even make 'em be Republican
So everybody know he love white people

— Kanye West, "Saint Pablo"

Man's Maturity: to have regained the seriousness that he had as a child at play.

— Friedrich Nietzsche

What are you afraid of losing, when nothing in the world actually belongs to you?

— Unknown

Jibbi

Jibhead to Jibaholic to Jibsexual needs to be studied

Words are Windows (or They're Walls)

by Ruth Bebermeyer

I feel so sentenced by your words, I feel so judged and sent away, Before I go I've got to know, Is that what you mean to say? Before I rise to my defense, Before I speak in hurt or fear, Before I build that wall of words, Tell me, did I really hear? Words are windows, or they're walls, They sentence us, or set us free. When I speak and when I hear, Let the love light shine through me. There are things I need to say, Things that mean so much to me, If my words don't make me clear, Will you help me to be free? If I seemed to put you down, If you felt I didn't care, Try to listen through my words, To the feelings that we share.