‘I don’t want to be a slave’: How I left my career behind

The final two months of my life were spent in a hotel room at the top of a hill in central Thailand, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers imaginable.

I’d been told it would take four years to reach that goal, and that I’d have to wait for the end of my contract to see my dream of being a professional photographer come true.

I didn’t want it.

I wanted to live in the world, to make a living.

But this was my last chance to be free.

As the days went on, my family, friends and co-workers kept telling me it would never be my last.

In December, I flew back to Bangkok, and I made my way to the Royal Palace to meet with the new Prime Minister, the King.

The news that my dream was alive again broke my heart.

For the first time in years, my life would not be controlled by the government.

In fact, I’d found my purpose.

When the King said goodbye, he gave me a hug.

I had never felt so loved before.

But it was a short moment, and it was all too short.

My journey had begun.

I was a professional photographist, and a career was my ticket out of my home country.

I arrived in New York to be the first foreign journalist in the city, but that wasn’t what I thought.

I thought I’d be the last foreign photographer in New Jersey.

I assumed my future was with my parents and siblings.

I imagined that I would find my own niche, travel the world and be a part of the global community.

But then I realised I was lucky enough to live where I do, and not where I had been before.

It wasn’t until my first year in New Zealand, that I realised how lucky I was.

“I had no idea how fortunate I was,” says David Mardle, a photographer who lives in the United States.

As a young man, David had no intention of staying in New England.

I’ve been told I’d never get to see New Zealand in person.

But as a photographer, David found himself drawn to the country.

He’s worked in the US for the past 13 years and has a passion for the American way of life.

I’m sure he didn’t know what he was getting into.

But he made it.

David Mardsle is a New Zealand-born American photographer who moved to New York in 2008.

He spent three years working as a journalist and now works as a commercial photographer.

After arriving in New Britain in 2007, David became an amateur photographer, and began taking pictures of the city for local newspapers and publications.

In his free time, he worked in advertising and eventually bought a car.

But the car was an accident waiting to happen.

David’s brother, Mike, who has worked for the New York Post since the 1990s, had to have his leg amputated, and the accident had to be covered up.

David Mardles photo of a traffic light in Newmarket, New York, on the day of Hurricane Sandy.

David worked in marketing for a local advertising agency for a year before he decided to start his own photography business.

At first, it was just for the occasional photo shoot, but David’s passion for photography grew.

When Hurricane Sandy hit the New Jersey coast in October 2012, David decided to leave his job as a reporter at the New England Journal of Medicine.

His wife, who lives just outside Newmarket in Connecticut, knew he had a knack for photographing storm damage.

She helped him set up his own private collection, which included everything from flood insurance policies to personal belongings.

For the next year, he continued working in New London, New Jersey, where he began photographing the devastation and taking photos of people with their homes blown off their roofs.

His photography of the devastation was so powerful, he was able to capture images of the people who were suffering the most.

David also took his photography to places that weren’t normally accessible to him, such as the streets of the South Bronx and the East Village.

It was a difficult time for David and his family.

His parents, who were working, were forced to take leave from their jobs to care for their son.

In April, 2013, he flew to New Zealand to spend time with his mother and brother.

One day, I came to him and said, ‘David, you need to go home to your mother and your brother.’

I told him I didn’ want to leave my job and the country behind.

I needed to take care of my mother and my brother.

David said he would, and he did.

He began taking photos every day.

But his photography never took off.

He still had to travel to New England, but not to the city where his mother was living.

The next day, my brother called and told me that he was taking David out for lunch, which would be on