Entangled In Strings


The strings of theory, so many as it goes. Possibilities, for beginnings, for endings. Ascensions and transcensions, moving from one pose to the next. Hoping the light will be just right, as we exist the stage. Is there a mirror placed upon another in the dressing room or is it something more. Is it all just a rehearsal for the next part, when the lights go out. Will the crowd be their waiting, will there be an encore?

– Josh Fleming

Image by: Unknown



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