Fascinated by the decay. The rot of the wood, the fading of the old rusty roof, the weathered bricks and the lush grip nature has on the frame.
There’s always a force behind our peace.
Wasted, overgrown, broken, and forgotten.
Beyond the threshold of yesterday, the shadows hold secrets that a rotted frame preserves. Unrestrained.
This old roadside farmhouse wastes away into the highway landscape. In the middle of nowhere; in the middle of somewhere. Time forgets and nature takes back.