Every Saturday, if the weather permits, my mom and I go for a long walk until she reaches her 10,000 steps (FitBit Life). 

That day I took these pictures we walked on the Timmerman Trail somewhere near Cayce, South Carolina. 

Usually on these long walks we have conversations about whats going on in each others lives.

 She tells me about work and I talk to her about school. 

She talks about boys, I talk about boys.

She talks about her goals, I talk about my goals.

We talk about family, life, and the strange noises we hear in the woods.

I suppose it's kind of like a therapy walk.

Either way, I always look forward to them.

We as blacks have this constant feeling of hopelessness. 

This hopelessness is fueled by all the things we believe we can not do out of fear of being harmed or discriminated against. 

This hopelessness is nothing new.

The inferiority has been present before blacks even came to America. I would argue it began with the colonial exploration, exploitation, and colonization of Africa. And now many years later we still feel hopeless. 

A white person kills an unarmed black person and is considered not guilty. A white person harasses, antagonizes, or harms another black person and is given a slap on the wrist. 

It happens so often it comes to the point of what are we as black people going to do that we haven't already done before.

We become hopeless, we are the hopeless race. 

Whenever we see white people in magazines, the media, a movie it becomes a game of  "Spot the Black Person" trying to see how many we can find compared to the many white faces we see.

When we black people are finally in the media it is rarely for anything good (unless it's sports).

We feel hopeless, is there ever going to be an adequate representation of our race?

Some of us are just trying to get out of poverty, out of the ghetto, but that doesn't even seem fathomable. Especially so when it seems like the world is against us. 

We as blacks are the hopeless race. 

Not to be mistaken for helpless.

We as blacks emotionally have no hope. 

And after generations of repression and generations of that feeling of hopelessness being passed what are we to do?

Part 3 are pictures of the Fernbank Museum and the Civil Rights Museum.

I ended up taking more pictures of the architecture than what was actually being shown at the museums.  

Part 2 are pictures of the city itself which is beautiful.

There were so many buildings and statues to take pictures of. 

I tried to not just show things from just one uninteresting angle, but to capture something from an angle you may have never thought to view it by.