Fear is the hand that pulls your strings.

Fear is the hand that pulls your strings.

I was talking to a friend about this moment.
This is the first photo i took when i came to in Westmead hospital after a major bleed.

I’ve haven’t bled that much since i was a child, i almost died again.
When i woke i had my camera on my bedside table, a nikon f60 that my mother had given me when i was nineteen.
My wife had left it for me, the clock read 4:27am. I had to walk.

I detached my drip and slung it over my shoulder. I remember it being so quite, just the hum of machines.

Collecting my thoughts, i didn’t know who i was anymore. A week later i had a nervous breakdown. Not many people noticed, i was afraid.

This was the end of the younger and the beginning of an older man.
Today is the two year anniversary.

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