What lens has captured your imagination, reframed your regurgitations of a past, of a future, of a present that still hangs upon weighted scales. Tongues they whip and lash, fumbling for the words, that fall from the horses mouth. This land is giveth and is taketh away. The spirit courts with no matters of the flesh, as the lines of estate become blurred. Respect rides on the tips of the feathers edge, wisdom is blown about in the tales of the wind, scattering the ashes of history with things still not yet learned.
– Josh Fleming
Image by: Cheyenne Randall