shot glass
title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Alan Catlin


 

 

Stumps of trees. Shape-shifted into prehistoric bones. Ribs of whales. A sunken wooden ship hull raised from the deep. This is how the sky looks when all life has left. When the bones are already gone replaced by a sick, aching layer of skin turning yellow as disease.


Morning is a
dream where
sun happens