The life and times of an apple tree
When the sun had not yet risen completely over the cold eastern horizon a thick layer of frost was seen to be covering the world that was my own backyard. A monocramatic world that was equal and white. Every shape, slightly distorted. The twigs on the trees had gained added girth in the winter season and flaunted their cool appearal. Against all the white and sameness, three golden apples asserted themselves in deep, glourious splenor.
This is why I need a camera.
This is why I need a camera.