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Behind our Ashburton lodging grew a potato patch. Behind the potato patch withered a row of little old cars. The land owner had erected a flash new Quonset to showcase his bright, shiny, restored car collection. I left a note on the locked gate. The spud grower phoned, and through his rather muddy accent, said pictures were ok, with him. In the dewy dawn we hopped the fence to search the castaway bones for colour. Drew red blood on the barbed wire. Took green stinging nettles on the shin. One of the old Canterbury cars sported a crimson door, an azure fender, and corrosion unveiled a lacy purple petticoat.
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This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 23rd, 2013 at 10:09 pm. It is filed under Fine Art, Homepage june 2013, New Images and tagged with abandoned, corrosion, derelict, detritus, disintegrating, ferric oxides, iron oxides, metal, perish, rust, scrap. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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