The Adventures of a Young Savage
And his mild-mannered pseudonym, Benjamin Jancewicz
Over Christmas 2007, we got to journey up to Connecticut to visit home. My grandfather Edward Jancewicz (Jaju) had recently taken a fall, and was in a recovery center.
He hadn’t been in high spirits, but when Nya came to visit him, he lit right up. My favourite photo is when my dad was swinging Nya in front of Jaju; every time she got really close they both burst into laughter.
Babchi (Martha Jancewicz, my grandmother) seemed so proud to hold her!
100/100
It was as if they beckoned me, those windows.
We were in the far end of Union Station, across from where the rest of the staff from the National Fatherhood Initiative’s Golden Dads crew sat in the Thunder Grill. They wanted to sit and chat, and I was restless.
And the windows, they called to me.
There was something about the design, the pattern of the glass. It reminded me of the Frank Lloyd Wright wing at the Philadelphia Art Museum. I would spend hours at a time there, just sitting and looking at everything.
And that’s what I did here. Oddly enough, some sort of art exhibition was being shown on the floor. It was empty. Not a single person in the hustle of catching their train or towing a family out into the Capital that was interested in admiring a few paintings.
I lay down on the marbled floors of the chamber and aimed my lens at the ceiling.
100/100
I gazed down through the portal in the desk. The menagerie of wires twisted below, the soft fans humming to themselves, breathing, sighing.
I made this.
It was my job, of course. To expertly arrange wires in organized systems, feed them through their portals, name them, number them, record them, plug them in.
I know what each wires does and where it goes. What information that passes through it’s coils and how quickly it thinks.
Most people would look at it and see cacophony. But I see the system. I look under the desk and see how it works instantly. I understand.
Kind of like people. I understand how they work, why people fall in love, why they break up. It’s natural for me. Look me in the eyes and I can feel if you’re truthful or not.
But most people don’t take the time. To them, it’s cacophony.