
About the work
The scooter looks more tired than the pigeon does. The red has bled into the air around it, a faded memory of speed. And the pigeon, a tiny stone against all that brick, just waits.

About the work
The scooter looks more tired than the pigeon does. The red has bled into the air around it, a faded memory of speed. And the pigeon, a tiny stone against all that brick, just waits.