History Is Made of Dreams (Pt 2)
It was hard to make the trip back to Casa Grande. Back to the 'Real World' where being different put you on the lowest rung of the human scale.
My friend died back in 1994. He was able to find a community where he was accepted and always held out hope for humanity...He always did have a higher view of mankind that I did.
When I left San Antonio I was on crutches and told I'd probably never be able to walk without an aid of some sort for the rest of my life (They were wrong), and I had responsibilities so...Back to CG.
I still draw images of San Francisco, still have the memories, I remember how it felt to have my heart beating to the point of exploding, the genuine laughter that would cause me to bend over and trying to catch my breath.
So, here are some of those drawings, all done with love, all done with the hope that maybe I'll see the place one more time.