We are all staring at the same wall painted in flickering shadows. Infinitely expansive, it is impossible to see in its entirety. So we pick a point on the wall and stare. Careful not to avert our gaze from the dancing dimness, we rarely ask why the dark dances at all.
The debut issue of the zine featuring photography from The State Museum of Pennsylvania in Harrisburg.
After a full day of familial obligations, I thought for the day after Christmas it would be nice to kick it with some friends. Not that my Christmas was particularly hectic, as I don’t allow myself to be swept up in the peppermint undertow; a task more simply stated than accomplished.
Star Date: August 13th, 2017. I once again find myself on
THE PREFACE Nothing quite like being the 7th wheel. Actually, maybe
Fog hung in the air as I crossed the Susquehanna headed to an undisclosed location in Harrisburg. After circling the well-lit blocks of historic Midtown for what felt like a small eternity, I found a spot to park. It was perfect. It had plenty of space and was the last spot behind a “no parking” sign, meaning I could pull right in. Behind me were the flickering orange lights of the Harvey Tailor Bridge, their effect magnified by the low hanging mist that clung to the river.
Five days before winter storm Stella sauntered into the Harrisburg
