Mr Johnson’s legs were completely out of fuel. His bones and body were immensely broken. His skin shook as he searched for energy to carry on his way. Just then, somebody walked past him and smiled, he didn’t smile back. All that he gave is a look of his ragged face and white bristles.
The Leaf by Oskar
A bee’s honeycomb preserved for Millenia
Ancient architecture unknown by all human kind.
A net. Waiting for its next unfortunate victim.
A plant coming to the end of its life.
A marshmallow on a stick being grilled by a campfire.
An elderly hand trembling as it shakes yours.
A pig’s skin bristling at the butchers.
The leaf.
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