
About the work
The crumb of bread, a tiny fleck. The rain, a distant mist. A politeness that will not hold. The truck bed, a place for things no one needs anymore. Bubble wrap torn, a skin already shed. The watching stranger, a mirror for later.

About the work
The crumb of bread, a tiny fleck. The rain, a distant mist. A politeness that will not hold. The truck bed, a place for things no one needs anymore. Bubble wrap torn, a skin already shed. The watching stranger, a mirror for later.