What wouldn’t you do for art?
“Perhaps it is wrong to speak of oneself while writing of another, but I truly wonder if I would have become as I am without her… My Albertine, how I adored her!”
On a fresh, March morning, the mist of dawn still hangs low in the air…
Lockdown angst, expressed through the medium of (slightly self-indulgent) collage and poetry.
It is time. There is no escape. The finale.
Now we must follow the path of another…. Part III.
The Tale continues… Part II : The Boy
This is the story of a boy, of a village, and of the sea. And in the beginning, it was she who howled the loudest… Listen to part one of Call Me When You Get There.