What’s left is lost in memory interpret by a passing moth.
As values change from hand to hand time changes the mark into a marker.
For my clothing will fit the earth one day, and happily converse with the grass that embraces my laces.
My will be not my no more but yours as it always was.
As me myself and I became a we us ourselves.
A photo is a memory by default. An image of the past.A glimpse into a world where you're not physically are.When developing a photo you had the option only to slide a part of the paper in the...
About a year ago I found some material hanging on a acorn bush. And thought it was the filling from a sleeping bag or other synthetic stuff.Today I found the same material again on some thorny...
Mr. Fennel. For a couple of days, there was a cap on the ground on the route that I take every day with my dogs. The cap was not really comfortable, that's why I hadn't taken a picture of it until...
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