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There’s an immense open shoot of land placed in front of me with a melancholy that blows like whistling wind far and high across the Montana plains. Stretched in the background, two gentle sleeping giants that come into focus as the eyes frown and narrow down into slits. Like a hawks eye everything is brilliantly…
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“Did you take a photo of her?” This was the first thought that crossed my mind. It barrelled out of my mouth and into Blondies ears. And for some reason that question got to me. Right in my chest. Slammed dunked hard against the ribs crushing the soft fleshy red meat inside that makes up…
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My Dear, Beware the man that doesn’t see. And see the flower that turns your eye upon it. Gently moving from one side and to the other And then beware the man that cuts it from its ground. Presented as a token piece. With words as offerings from the Gods. Hollow is this empty speech.…
DARCY GREY 