I had captured the slow steps of someone moving through the low, dark space.
When I open the big book of writing, there’s often a dank, mossy well to draw from. It’s deep and it’s far from pretty.
I’ve stood there. Same stones. Same sky. But that guy stood there too. He came out of his house of film and captured my world. And then he turned it around and showed it to me.
The world is changing. It always has been, even when we were so young we thought it would stay the same forever.