It’s there, and it’s timeless.
And it’s their own way.
Fragments of things that decay in time.
Decay. Mud, rust, humidity and raw salt. Vast artificial landscape. Bird sanctuary.
Spikes, triangles and edges. Dark concrete watching me on a cloudy day in the north.
Sounds that make perfect silence. Life and healing.
Silence and some rather peculiar motion. Calmness.
They left in a hurry, in the middle of experiments and a cup of tea.
Spirited and curious they are.
Raw salt crystals. It’s eating the steel you can almost hear it.
Large aperture through the empty glasses.
Walking through the cages of steel and power.
It’s sleeping and waiting for the white to fade.
A great gathering on a peaceful morning. A prayer, and a selfie.
It’s weird when you tilt. So I tilt.