Far From the City
A forest of space
When I grew up. And my daughter.
I'm from there, she's from here.
Now we are embedded, more of the same.
One plus one equals 1 million.
In the yard a tree grows around the fence.
Bulbs are buried, the trellis is in place.
The weeds have been weeded.
A forest of space.
There is always another storm, high winds,
a bad dream: I lost my keys, bought the wrong tools, I’m falling.
Then back to infinity.
A cord of wood for the fireplace, water the garden.
The acres have been cleared.
I'm holding on.
We are safe.
Polaroid photographs by artist Julia Paul