Growing up is a kind of emotional trauma. I’ve become a mystery to myself, and I fear the undertow of my emotions will drown me before I even realize I’m out to sea. Feelings have evolved from the monosyllabic (sad, mad, glad) to those far more complex (nostalgia, melancholy, uneasiness, resentment). But some things are as simple as always, just slightly more lived in. Love. Hope. Trust. Bliss. Life isn’t black and white, nor even grayscale. I like to think it’s rich in Kodachrome color.