A Warm Place To Call Home


The subject reacts for the majority, disintegration protests. They have put it to high upon the shelf, this conflict between neighbors. Posted ideologies on the wall, the lines and wires tangle together. We speak but do not listen. The desire to enact a quiet discourse, a scripted pose of selfless identity. To burn away a voice that cannot sing through your eyes, a truth conditioned by its own reprise. A tale of this and that and some other, forgotten names, dates not remembered, facts or fictions. See for your self, the seed you planted does not grow, drink your own truth, to lay in a warm place to call home.

– Josh Fleming

Image by: Ryan Mcginley


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