The Travellerphotograph by Matt Mooney White lines on cement and mirrors, cars chase, miles drown, and i exude a brittle warmth. like a smoky bon...
When It Blizzard in Mayarteries span out, tiny fingers grasping for life screens show me your face, a blurry monotone of the past. crevasses in trees cradle my...
I'm LeavingLazy eyes snaking across empty screens, you pull your weight around. She mumbles, hoping you turn around. Nothing but stillness catches...