i like to tell stories

I wanted to see the burn and not the fire. I drove up to the hills and was stopped there and here and there. I was not allowed. It was another secret to be kept from me. I never saw fire, I never saw smoke, I only saw burn from far far far away. I photographed here until the burning of my skin by sunlight matched the pain of the burning I still feel on my brain and then I left this place.

So when I got home and looked at my images from the nearly burned but not, I set them on fire electronically with tools and techniques of hate in an effort to destroy that beauty that I had seen.