Hundreds of years in the surround, I went looking for the human. Where I couldn’t find it I tried to add it back in. I felt the stones around me - their fragmentation, their broken vessels.

Structures mask the marks of their creators, but in deconstruction I saw gestures - incredible efforts, labor.

Like Rome the West will fall.

In time we leave traces, in ruins. So now, where to put our marks? I went to these sites to return to myself, to visit an ideology imprinted long ago. And while desiring to abandon doctrine I found comfort in a landscape, familiar yet foreign - the foundation.

The marks of hands, the presence of history before my small occupation of it. Ours.

[ All images taken in and around Arles, France - former Roman territory. ]

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