Vanishing lines never arriving that make visible the tiny throws of chance. We linger forewarned: The Event Horizon: Always Closer Than May Appear.
Gratitude for the phrase that make visible the tiny throws of chance to British poet Peter Redgrove from his poem Pure Chance. The last four lines of the poem:
Thus the pictures flat on the boards grow solid:
Snakes and laddering branches, the snaky wind
Coiled into the oaks, hissing. He walks free of them
Out of the wood on to the meadows of pure chance.
All photos Eugene Oregon 2020 Beyond; click to enlarge.
