There was once a way Home.
There were places people discovered that altered the very fabric of their minds; dark places where Sirens wail from the sewers and alleys among the nightmares of the City; places where Enlightenment roams the streets and parks and boulevards blinding all those who will listen.
A strange World.
Our "places" are constantly, slowly if not sudddenly, evolving and destroyed, ultimately ghosting away. I relish the privilege of observing human drama, catching those brief concersations and the rare moments of human love, hate, betrayal and despair before it wanders to oblivion...
There was once a way Home until a stranger appeared on the path. He had the voice of many people yet spoke only in clouds.
As I sit here on this bench with my camera and typewriter, I wonder at the pedestrians passing by. Wondering what's on their minds? What pushes them forward? But they disappear into their own lives never to be seen again...
As the sky washed into twilight, he removed a parchment from his pocket and inscribed it with an instrument. It read......
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