sitting

sometimes they can't sit up
sometimes they can’t

He was,

locked in.

The memory of the sneakers fading, as the footsteps passed over head.  Haunted by the thought of, the chair.  Nestling in the lap of, his master, or was the lap…

…his


 

(my second of five posts in response to a very kind nomination for the “five photos / five stories black and white challenge” from desleyjane and for the “black and white challenge” from albert

(and inspired by a dreadful awakening and by a walk with the dead in brüssel)

(oh, and as my second nomination, I’d like to invite miz roket to share her unique blend of serbian/norwegian culture with you through five black and white images and stories…)

*shot with nikon d700, edited in aperture 3, analog efex pro 2 wet plate filter and converted to mono with silver ex pro 2, walking sitting with the dead*

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