17th February, 2011.
As the giant, Romanesque dial high up on the Woy Woy clock tower strikes its traditionally slurred and cacophonous eleven minutes past wine o clock, I plunge my free hand deep into the kit bag of hopeful endeavour. Gnarled digits scavenge hungrily in amongst the naïve batch of ‘recent offerings’: sweat forming a picket line of nervous shimmer just above my reddish pouty bits as the futility of everything begins its stark mantra that echoes oh so familiar… “surely there was something just a little bit interesting housed in amongst these neg sleeves of not all that long ago !” …
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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| Photograph - Andrew Stark |
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