As I have been contemplating the diverse array of photos to post on my blog, one thing has come out of all my thoughts...I either have a very good habit of encountering communities in the midst of struggling with or overcoming the challenges of revolution, or the world is truly filled with the constant struggle for recognition. Which begs a further thought: Those who live in Western societies are truly oblivious to how the majority of the world lives, let alone exists. However, I do reflect on how my time in Fiji in the summer of 1996 was directly between the coups with evening curfews and armed guards on every corner; Hungary in the summer of '99, with the the war in Kosovo igniting the air, (not to mention the noise of bombing and helicopter parades echoing in the distance); my pilgrimage across Mexico in the summer of '07 witnessed many Indigenous revolutionary movements, not to mention the first hand account from the massacre of Acteal; a walk up Fall's Road and down Shankhill in East Belfast couldn't help but tug at my religious, cultural (and ancestral) mores, while only just this past weekend another life has been lost in the name of IRA revenge. Most recently my fleeing Egypt brought about a revolution (or so my family likes to think), while I have just ended up in a nation still recovering from a 10 year civil insurgence, which it has yet to really move beyond politically. Regardless of the coincidences, the passions of the people in all accounts have left their mark on me in some way. And although I don't have all of my experiences recorded in images, I can share some of the more charismatic moments that grabbed me...this segment could certainly be on going...
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