150. 150 dreams dashed to the ground. 150 dreams shot down. 150 lives lost to violence this year in New Orleans. Each one was a child once. Each one held hopes and dreams of a better life. Each one possessed unlimited potential and inherent worth. This year, we lost 150 dreams of a better world. Every week, I feel gunshots shake the foundation of my city, robbing the dignity and stripping the selfhood of every citizen. My experience leads me to a revelation: each of us must play a role in helping to stop the Goliath of gun violence. My black-and-white drawings ask one question of my audience: faced with the bleak reality of violence, will we become hardened, hopeless and detached, conceding to the Culture of Death, or will we conjure up our courage, gaze up at Goliath, and hold steadfast for the holiness of life? This is the question of my art. This is the question of our age. It is an either/or question. It is black or white. Like the little boy in the drawing, I choose to dream of a higher purpose to life, beyond the nihilism of murder. Even when we must hear the shattering wails of mothers, even when we must lower little coffins into the ground, even when we must woefully release balloons to the heavens, mankind can still see hope, act with purpose, and dream big dreams. I choose to dream of a New Orleans, an Orlando, a Charleston, where love takes root, beauty abounds, community conquers chaos, and all across the city, the sweet music of peace plays out in the streets.