Where you are born will never change, in name nor place nor creed, old words decay and footprints fade but it’s still home indeed.
Someday you’ll make the grand return to see with outlook new all that has gone, where the time went if they’ve forgotten you.
the smells are unfamiliar in the boxed-up clothes you wore, even mirrors don’t reflect the way you thought they did before.
You’ll find the buildings taller, that the halls are full of ghosts but everything still here is what you remember most.
Firsts and lasts and birthdays (November 6th would warm them all). frigid days spent breathing in the apple-colored fall.
We slept until the winter when the world was painted grey, draped ourselves in scarlet and it all melted away.
Braving rain, we’d pedal to the river styx at dusk where the world did not stretch further than the thickets and the rust.
Here, i play the role of past-boy jumping back onto the scene, i fit the part so nicely that you’d think the boy was me.
Though I may roam (to different sights! - out of small shoes i’ll grow) there’ll always be a part of me that’s filled with this city.
34 23435 hours ago
This fleeting moment...
Before I started shooting with models I honed my skills by shooting self portraits. Looking back now it's so clear to see the connection I had with nature and colour toning even back then 😍🍂🍁 every picture is a small step forward 🌱