Claire moon

She inhabited the house her grandmother used to live in, surrounded by collections of driftwood and whisky bottles. A yellowing fan hung from the ceiling that reached to the skies and the stars found themselves on the cold concrete ground. Every year, she shredded her old skin and draped it over the fence. Someone always collected it within a day. 

This time, I followed her in. She turned around, and laughed before I shot her through the bare pale cage that held everything inside together.

A small series of portraits of Claire taken around three weeks ago. 

She inhabited the house her grandmother used to live in, surrounded by collections of driftwood and whisky bottles. A yellowing fan hung from the ceiling that reached to the skies and the stars found themselves on the cold concrete ground. Every year, she shredded her old skin and draped it over the fence. Someone always collected it within a day. 

This time, I followed her in. She turned around, and laughed before I shot her through the bare pale cage that held everything inside together.

A small series of portraits of Claire taken around three weeks ago. 

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