songs about roving, rambling and plain hard luck & photography from the other side …
if I blew up my own bridges would I only hurt myself

Did you wake up to the thunder of the dead streets down below? / Did you hear the wind a-howlin‘ through some demon radio? / Oh no, I know it’s so hard to go (Alejandro Escovedo)

the wind, moved like an echo, carrying their voices

Well some day I hope to find / That land of funny wine / Where the coffee grows on the wide oak trees / And those sugar coated mountaints in the spring begin to melt to sweetest stream / Reached night, the starlight and the sea / Together form eternity / And the wind moves […]

every day that comes along has a silver medal on

Nothing soars like falcons it’s all paper planes / Nothing stings like thistles and nothing floods like rain / Nothing roars like fire when you’re standing on your own / No shelter from the coming storm will ever feel like home (Darlingside & Caitlin Canty)