Closer, closer... the decaying texture invites.
As if deep in woods, every plank is a tree...
Seemingly alike, yet each one different from another.
Life ends, paint strips off like foliage before winter.
Soon, bare ribs will be revealed like the limbs of a dying tree.
I appear... amazed by the beauty of their last days,
readily getting lost, emerged in the endless impressions.
Isle of Mull, Scotland