2022.06 Esoteric Wroclaw at Night

It’s seven in the morning. I’m hungover after a night of drinking with friends and talking to strangers. You know. The extroverted usual. 

A crash from outside the window lets me know that sleep just was not meant to be. Some men are throwing furniture from the second-story window of an old townhouse. 

I get dressed, walk up to them, and ask if I may take some photos. Of them and the apartment they’re cleaning out. They even agree to wait before throwing out an old keyboard so I could get a nice shot of it falling.

Mailman Running

Have a Think

Stories and photography for chronic overthinkers.

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