Windy days seemed to be a big thing this year.

New York light hits hard, with strong lines and deep shadows. Nothing is ever constant. Not the light, not the patterns, not the texture. It changes by the second and by the foot.

I don’t really know what it is about my area. Maybe all of Brooklyn is this way. There are so many funeral homes.

It’s the small stuff. Always the small stuff, like the feel of your son in the middle of playing on a lazy day. Get the small stuff right, the rest finds a way.

Evan and leaf – by Spencer Lum

Life will pass you by, if you let it. And it’s a freight train. But the most incredible thing is if you look – if you stop, inhale and let it happen – you’ll find it right there in front of you. It’s all you need to do, and it’s so much to ask.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s the dreary day or something, but looking at brighter days was a nice change. When will this winter go away?

Hair – by Spencer Lum

It was windy and cold. You spend a lot of time just trying to make due with things when you have kids. To get by. It’s funny, because there’s so much love there. The smallest thing makes your heart swell. But you’re busy. Busy in a crazy way that never slows down. Even when you’re lying around, relaxed, you’re busy, because you can hear the clock ticking away in your head. Because you still have a problem you want to solve or because you’re waiting for an answer about the best age to cry it out on some board.

And cars. They’re killers. Not literally, though that might be true too. But they’re killers. In. Out. In. Out. The car seat. The stroller in the trunk. And trying to put your son in his car seat, when he’d rather sit in front and help start the car. The wind blows, your head is stuck between the crack in the door, your body contorts, and you do your job. It’s the best thing in the world, but man oh man. It’s a ride.

Morning reflection – by Spencer Lum

Paper background – by Spencer Lum