songs about roving, rambling and plain hard luck & photography from the other side …
but I could hear the ghosts singing on the other side
© Storebæltsbroen, Dänemark, 2015, Florian Fritsch

I left this town with the throttle open wide / The heater was blowing but nothing inside / Could ember the darkness or swallow my pride / When I left this town I was running (Jeffrey Foucault)

all them things that seemed so important vanished right into the air
© Storebæltsbroen, Dänemark, 2015, Florian Fritsch

But I remember us riding in my brother’s car / Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir / At night on them banks I’d lie awake / And pull her close just to feel each breath she’d take / Now those memories come back to haunt me they haunt me like a curse [...]

before all the days are gone & darker walls are bent and torn
© Kopenhagen, Dänemark, 2015, Florian Fritsch

Rivers that run anywhere / Are in my hand and just up the stair / Past the eyes of those who care / Who can never be / Alone (Jackson C. Frank)