Andrew O'Neill
Moderator
A Rivalry Begins...
With every visit, the tree greets me with those smug, wooden eyes.
I position my camera— clouds roll in like a curtain call.
Light dies...
I return with loaded holders. My shutter jams.
I swear its bark ripples like laughter.
One of us will fall.
Probably me.
With every visit, the tree greets me with those smug, wooden eyes.
I position my camera— clouds roll in like a curtain call.
Light dies...
I return with loaded holders. My shutter jams.
I swear its bark ripples like laughter.
One of us will fall.
Probably me.
