"...41° 16′ 12″ N 72° 21′ 26″ W..."
"...41° 16′ 12″ N 72° 21′ 26″ W..."
"...41° 16′ 12″ N 72° 21′ 26″ W..."
A tranquil, apocalyptic, red orange afternoon reflected in the glass window behind a man who looked to be in his prime years. He is sitting at the wide and spacious porch. Soft creeky noises echoed in the small community neighborhood as he kept swinging the old wooden rocking chair.
Listening closely, this man is mumbling something under his breath. Silent, almost whispering, he repeated, and repeated like a broken record on a loop. The dry air passes through, touched his skin and small dust particles entered his mouth and watery eyes, but he seemed not bothered by it.
"...41° 16′ 12″ N 72° 21′ 26″ W..."
"...41° 16′ 12″ N 72° 21′ 26″ W..."
"...41° 16′ 12″ N 72° 21′ 26″ W..."
