Testo: When They All Fell. Passengers. Memory Machine.

Silver dollars won't do the trick. You need two tickets for this ride. Hold on. (This is more than a photograph, its edges torn and faded, looks like a map to me.) Consequence in contrast, looking back, look at the back, there's something written in black pen, it's smeared, best wishes in the days ahead. (The sepia tone is more warm than grey,) reminds me of better days, of days better buried than unearthed. Days better buried