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My trip began as a simple time away from work helping my folks move from the house, in which, I grew up in Houma to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.





















Upon waking up from the haphazard slumber I endured through the night on the couch at my parent's new house, I learned that my cousin John had died in a motorcycle accident the night before. Acoording to the Public Informations Officer at the Houma Police Department, just lost control when he hit a puddle in the road after he passed his turn home to keep driving. He did everything he was supposed to do including laying the bike down and skidding but, inevitably slid into a telephone poll and died instantly.

I was shocked. I still am. He was 31 and had grown up only down the street really. He was like a brother to me. It's been two weeks now and it's still hard for me to talk about. Instead of polluting his beautiful life with words, I'll just show some pictures instead.

I love you John.