Met Dylan at 4387(for those who knew that place) Shy at first, but after a few more times chillin and bunning piff we became good acquaintances. I would see him the odd time in NDG at parties and friends places, he was always down. Once i mentioned i am a photographer and asked him if i could follow him and document a night of bombing or hitting a chill daytime spot, he was so down. For a certain period of time after that he was messaging me on facebook a lot to ask if i was down to go out, i was mad busy with school and work at the time so i would always have to take a rain check. THis went on for a while then i had to leave for BC to go out and work, but i still wanted to hit him up to paint. When i got back life took its hold on me again and i was mad busy with useless shit, feeling i would never have enough time. I never made an effort to go out with him, now Dylan is gone. I never got a photo of him, oh how i would love to have a video of him doing his clean throwups. This taught me something of value, Making time for people is fucking important, i feel it would have made a certain bond between me and him. This past week has really been a roller coaster, his death effected me in ways i didnt think it would at first. his legacy lives on in the streets, everyday i see at least two throwups who knows how many tags of his, im sure all of you guys do too.
anyways, thought i share. RIP Dylan Ford and friends.
http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4045/4551054891_073b7dc168_z.jpg
something I took near the Turcott yards. Its not of Dylan but i feel it speaks of all writers who wander in this concrete jungle.