Hole in Fence with Bicycle
Wet snow. The mundane, the abandoned, the discards all wrapped as humble
gifts. It is one of the most quiet times, each thing in its new decoration
has a new life, a certain visual beauty that causes contemplation, a search
for meaning where there is none, it is not abandoned childhood. Much as I
might want it to be something more it is after all just a bicycle in the
snow and a hole in a fence.