Silently trudging left, from unknown origins towards uncertain fate, the three tramps soldier on. Their footwear chafes but they scarcely acknowledge it, frozen in time yet still dynamic. How is it possible to find your way, lost in a jungle of brown paper landscape? How is it possible to see without eyes?
Yet, we can forgive such things for the elegant drapes of thin stripes and the satisfying silent squeak of pastel baseball shoes. We can put unspoken words into the non-existent mouths for the hope of expressing ourselves. “Shut up!” they whisper.
