I originally photographed this a long time ago, and I posted it once. Reposting it here, I felt similar things to what I originally wrote when I had first photographed it, which was:

Normally I don’t photograph dead things. Because normally I want to bury them, or otherwise pay some sort of respect, or otherwise soothe the deep discomfort that death seems to instil in me (often by walking right on by).

Today, in reposting, I have a sense that the death of old ideas, thoughts, biosemiotic configurations, has been hovering close, sometimes entering my dreams, sometimes confronting me in my waking moments, generally with feelings of warmth, even liberation. Which is curious, because I feel distinctly oppressed, suppressed, burdened by a somewhat painful confusion these days, one almost emblematically presented to me in the deterioration of my vision. I hear that’s something that happens to many, if not most, humans in their forties. But here at the beginning of 2024, which has started with string of days that include really wonderful moments but have been dominated by just a steaming pile of bullshit I don’t need, it seemed fitting to repost this photograph, as I am ready for the death of bullshit.

Use the left and right arrow keys or click on the left or right side of the picture to move from post to post. This is all very "under development".