not my photograph…
Something I found, while riding the bus here, translated, by me…
On the day that my older brother’s brother was born, it was, as if, sugar, molasses were, coming out of my mother’s life, I’d just gotten off of the graveyard, I’d checked my phone, and, lo and behold, there were, over thirty missed calls, and, they were, all from my mother. My older brother was, driving the long passages, heaven knows, on that most impressive moment—the moment that his own son got yanked out of his wife’s body—where, did he, driven to? Could it be that, there’s some, six sense? And naturally, I’d, kept this question, inside of my mind, never actually, asked him about it; plus, god knows where my eldest brother had gone to right now, he’d been, hiding from us all, like we’re, the bubonic plague or something, looks like, I won’t EVER, get that cleared up that’s for sure. But, my eldest brother is not at all, the least bit romantic, he’d spoken with, such carelessness, that he was at some rest station, taking a leak. Anyways, he’s just, really, really, very THICK, very, very, hovered up, what you’d expected, from a “standard” kind of man. And even IF, there’s some thoughtfulness inside of him, you can’t expect, that he’ll ever, tell anybody about it either.
And so, this, is how men are socialized to act, to show that they’re TOUGH, that they can handle just about anything, and this man, he ran out on his own wife and she was pregnant, and now his own son was born, he’s never going to, participate in the coming of age processes of his own offspring, because he’s just, irresponsible. Typical male behaviors here!!!
still NOT my photograph…
Life, the Obstacle Course 