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.
Or worse.

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

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