Across The Fence


I was waiting for my coffee to brew; slouched against the counter, I had been staring blankly out the back door, when my pre-coffee brain dimly awoke to the recognition of an image.

Now that my coffee is at hand I can consciously reflect on what I’ve dome.


About Stephen Foster

I have been pressing a camera to my face since I was twelve years old; if you look closely, you can see the marks. View all posts by Stephen Foster

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