Erasure
The water spills down the rocks like memory, fractured, relentless, and cold. Trees lean in, cloaking the scene in green silence, but the sound of the falls drowns everything else. It’s not peaceful. It’s persistent. The kind of place where something was lost, not buried. The rocks are slick with time, the flow too steady to be innocent. You don’t hear birds here. You hear the echo of names no longer spoken. The path leads in but not out. And the falls, ancient and unblinking, do not cleanse. They erase.
My latest photography is now available for purchase at crsimages.pixels.com/, featuring prints, framed art, and more from my curated collections.
Erasure
The water spills down the rocks like memory, fractured, relentless, and cold. Trees lean in, cloaking the scene in green silence, but the sound of the falls drowns everything else. It’s not peaceful. It’s persistent. The kind of place where something was lost, not buried. The rocks are slick with time, the flow too steady to be innocent. You don’t hear birds here. You hear the echo of names no longer spoken. The path leads in but not out. And the falls, ancient and unblinking, do not cleanse. They erase.
My latest photography is now available for purchase at crsimages.pixels.com/, featuring prints, framed art, and more from my curated collections.