My granddaughter gave me my second work by photographer Brandon Stanton. The first Humans of New York was given to me by my daughter and now this, simply Humans It fills my soul to read the brief stories and look at poignant pictures of people on the streets of wherever in the world Stanton wanders with his camera. There is always something to relate to: stories of joy, fears, dreams, pain and recovery. Ages, races and cultures do not matter…all are human. I am human. I relate.
Here is one story I saw a few days ago, the same day I was reading an old journal from 2016.
From Humans, a woman from Rasht, Iran, says: “I’ve fallen in love with literature. I try to read for one or two hours every day. I only have one life to live. But in books I can live one thousand lives.
I, at 72, December 2, 2016 write: “I can’t not read and write in the morning. What would I do if I were kidnapped and whoever took me didn’t grab my books, paper and pens? Solitary confinement? Just me and walls. I mean, am I even a real person without my stuff?”