There is nothing more exciting than walking through a door.
To the steps of the mundane or to the next adventure.
We always know where we are going 80% of the time.
The clinking of keys in our hands, locking our doors to keep our family, possessions and secrets safe.
What if the next time we go through a door
We abandon our clothing and run down the street.
To be touched by wind, sun or rain.
And to escape the voice of reason that binds us to our daily ghost.
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Many pieces torn into shreds, year by year. Fragile bits cracking gently but never mending. To the core that binded never was. We traveled... -
Forgive me for being on this fast track, This train keeps passing the stations I’m suppose to be getting off. A night here in paradise h...
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Time did not stand still It shaped its road for us to leave the past To rain soaked pavements, fallen leaves, high altitudes underneath the ...
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