In memory of my Father …
For too long I have been a member of a vanishing tribe … We start using terms like; ‘going, going, gone …’ in our black and white mists; the shades and shards of grey … Shadow-companies of our races … When does it come to the staging ground when we’re comfortable in recognising our own ghosts? Stare into that spectral mirror … Should I be worrying about the size of the frame without caring about the horror in the view? When maybe for too long I’ve been a card-carrying member, of a vanishing people …