brighton rock

an old man went stooping down the shore, very slowly, turning the stones, picking up the dry seaweed for cigarette enfds, scraps of food. the gulls which had stood like candles down the beach rose and cried under the promenade. the old man found a boot and stowed it in his sack, and a gull dropped from the parade and swept through the iron nave of the Palace Pier, white and purposeful in the obscurity: half vulture and half dove.

some of my shit photographs i took, some for my graphics like.