
About the work
The mist holds the light like a memory of warmth. The tractor waits, as if it knows that even on Sunday, the field will still be there tomorrow. There is a quiet insistence in things that simply are.

About the work
The mist holds the light like a memory of warmth. The tractor waits, as if it knows that even on Sunday, the field will still be there tomorrow. There is a quiet insistence in things that simply are.