I think the images speak for themselves. But here are a few of my thoughts too.
The landscape has been inverted but the temperature is still rising.
A scribbled story is told in a hurry just before the storms rain down.
The White City has been set in the sea. This time it is pastoral and built with harsh blows.
Gauges measure the ebb and flow. The moon is always constant.
The long-haulers make the journey that the little guys only dream of. In return, they are bashed and beaten into place so they can fit in around the little guys until they are allowed to leave.
Weekly, I read about the rise of contemporary art in India. Where have they been looking? I took one boat ride and found contemporary art that has been a work in progress for the last 10 years.
Stains of strain.
Life is always half full, even during rough seas.