About

I am twenty years old, currently living in Brisbane, Australia. I love photography, bitter coffee and chaotic music.

This website is my portfolio and pixelated scrapbook documenting my experiences and my love of photography; a stream of digital consciousness.
I can see how this will endIn a cloud of dust in a filthy warI can see how this will endWhere we’re still clingingTo whatever we can findAnd all of this I’ve been through beforeIs a page that’s been tornFrom that same old storyAnd we’re desperateWe’ll tear down the shelves to read a different endingKeep your head down, don’t let them see youJust rest hereKeep your hopes high, it can’t be much longer nowCan’t wake upSo we sat and waited for it to passI’ve been growing oldIn these trenchesWaiting for the white flagTo be wavedWell I’ve been playing it rightRight from the scriptWaiting for the same cueTo slow and just stopAll the lines of my face are filled with dustAnd oh how I’ve learned to sleep so well in dirtAll the things I said I meant, but I wasn’t sureAll the words we never kept, but we had to sayIt was never a secretWe never kept it quietWe said what we said and we’ll say it againThis isn’t homeAnd all of this I’ve been through beforeIs a page that’s been tornFrom that same old storyWe’re desperateAnd we’ll tear down the shelves to read a different endingNow I’m climbing up and getting out, I’m going home.

I can see how this will end
In a cloud of dust in a filthy war
I can see how this will end
Where we’re still clinging
To whatever we can find

And all of this I’ve been through before
Is a page that’s been torn
From that same old story
And we’re desperate
We’ll tear down the shelves to read a different ending

Keep your head down, don’t let them see you
Just rest here
Keep your hopes high, it can’t be much longer now
Can’t wake up
So we sat and waited for it to pass

I’ve been growing old
In these trenches
Waiting for the white flag
To be waved
Well I’ve been playing it right
Right from the script
Waiting for the same cue
To slow and just stop

All the lines of my face are filled with dust
And oh how I’ve learned to sleep so well in dirt
All the things I said I meant, but I wasn’t sure
All the words we never kept, but we had to say

It was never a secret
We never kept it quiet
We said what we said and we’ll say it again
This isn’t home

And all of this I’ve been through before
Is a page that’s been torn
From that same old story
We’re desperate
And we’ll tear down the shelves to read a different ending

Now I’m climbing up and getting out, I’m going home.