Photo Story: All Things Bright and Beautiful

Under northern skies in a hotel bed he is shifting in tidal sleep, from foyer bar oblivion. Blankly, perched at the bedside table, he has woken to January’s ashen afternoon. He scrawls then at fragments with a pen. The dream. A derelict warehouse, fingers phrasing over a hundred pianos. He knew too much, then ran from uniforms down escalators across glass buildings.

Under his window, all are in black and older. Friends raining. Waiting for taxis to the crematorium and later “All Things Bright and Beautiful,” sung for a mother too distant; muted where birds still swoop over the stones.

Max Cardwell is currently shifting around the south coast of England in in a camper van having abandoned a long history of distinctly uncompelling jobs. He has literary and musical aspirations, specifically either a collection of short stories or an album.

Photo credit: Anne Worner

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