They are silent whisperers. Their whispers speak through the frame I am viewing. I am a watcher, a listener, a seeker....
Sub: You May Lose Your Testicles It’s a hot, humid, feral walk through tropical mist made of mosquitoes. This was an exploration with no destination—only surprises. Fear, raw and animal, dragged me into a pot of stew called “brutal.” I was boiled slow, melted piece by piece...