Brock Turner is a Rapist

Image courtesy of Buzzfeed News

You know when a news story comes around that just makes your stomach fall out of your body? The more you read about it, the more ice cubes fall into your heart. To say I am disgusted by the Brock Turner rape case, is a drastic understatement.

At this point, I think everyone with internet access knows who Brock Turner is, what happened at a Stanford party in 2015, and more importantly, what Judge Aaron Persky did to women everywhere. I am never a person to climb on a soapbox, but this was just incredible to me.

My Secret Garden


Before starting this blog, I was a photographer. I can, will, and often do take portraits, but there is something so cathartic in nature. People disappoint far more often than a flower or mountain ever will, and they require no direction. They just are. I’m not saying you can simply go out and snap pictures without a thought for f-stops or ISO settings, definitely not. It’s just wonderful to get lost in your camera without having anyone around save for a pretty little flower.

As I mentioned in my previous post, my health has been far from spectacular. In order to heal myself, I’ve retreated to my parents’ house where the flowers reign supreme. I have a few potted succulents and a spunky orchid, but I can’t even dream of comparing to the botanical heavyweights that are my parents. They’re the kind of people that mess with the acidity of soil to achieve a hydrangea in shocking hues. It’s impressive to say the least. I just graduated from killing cacti on a somewhat professional level, so I have a long way to go.