Product Description
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The world ultimately demands your time dedicated to some sort of service:
To yourself and the rest of the rabble both.

(Photos taped end-to-end, side-by-side, clinging to my ceiling in a van.)

Two hours in a moment I take an oath. It’s a matter of needing what I am. Each photo frames my fortune; treasures not buried but left behind, not forever but for now in favor of a future presently defined. My steps must mean something even as they circle the meaninglessness of a given day.

(Photos collectively droop to the heat of being held inside; I offer more tape in apology for time spent away…time spent away.)

It’s funny when you know something is right albeit shackled to all the wrong, along for the ride tickling clarity to the point of doubt. Fingers take hold of my hand; a satisfied soul has little interest in an answer.

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