Move Away

A hillside packed tight with corrugated rooftops — zinc, tin, scrap metal — stacked on top of each other with barely room to breathe. Patches of blue, yellow, and red push through the grey like small acts of defiance. There are no people in the frame, and that's the point. This is the place after the decision has been made. The view you see from the back of the taxi. The picture that stays in your chest long after your body has left.

Not everyone who grows up between tin walls is meant to stay there. Some people carry a colour inside them that doesn't match the landscape, and the bravest thing they do is leave — not because they hate where they're from, but because they love who they're becoming more.

Giclee print on fine art paper. 

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