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About Perth

Clarice… she’s a ghost, y’know? Floatin’ thru life, half-seen. “A butterfly’s wings,” Bauby’d call it—fragile, flappin’ in the dark. Funny tho, she’d probly laugh at that—call it sappy. “Gimme a twenty, poet,” she’d sneer. Sarcasm’s her shield, I bet. Ever think how many’ve walked that path? Millions, probly—history’s littered with ‘em. Rome had ‘em, medieval towns too—hell, even nuns turned tricks sometimes. Shocked me when I read that—nuns! Wild world, Clarice…

II. — The photographs

I seen all kinda shit: wild nights, laughs, and a bit o’ sadness, all brewed in a stew of passion. Every nook got a flavor. Imma shout out to that graffiti on Brick Alley—dope tags shout “Say goodbye to language” in splashes of orange and blue. It’s like art got its own language, beyond words.

Chocolate Labrador Grunts with Joy on Way to Dog Park and It’s the Cutest Road Trip Tune