A GHOST HUNTS FOXES IN WINTER TIME ON A FROZEN SEA

"Rifle in hand, hunting for a state of being I'm afraid will never return, not within my lifetime. There are things that won't go away until the end times have passed. We are in the end times, and always have been. We are overtaken by deceitful electricity, this imitation of all that is living and all that the living things have created, the machine that cleanses itself of the human souls that created it. For years I've shielded myself from the wind, and now my roots are failing, I'll be lifted with the wind unless I accept my failure and adapt. Get some exercise. I will not be a lesson learned the hard way." These were the words of the ghost, when no one was there to hear them. Nonetheless the ghost has made himself known to this town. Running past the street lamps and onto the sea, everyone cheers for the ghost. But you choose not to join them, instead remaining nestled in the darkness of your room on the second highest floor. All sounds plundered, created, and/or warped by Rooms Without Doors Graphic design and illustration by Ellby (ellby.bandcamp.com) Featuring photography by Steel Valley (steelvalley.tumblr.com)