High summer John Short

John Short

High summer

Gascony

Faceless dots on maps upon closer inspection reveal bridges, houses, churches. Road signs suggest other places but it’s high summer and the crop needs a hand.

Midnight café, cicada chorus unexpected friendships, a one-armed war veteran pedalling old lanes at dawn, the chance discovery: fresh bread and chocolate as elements to combine

and how random dots on maps, at first of no significance, create allegiances over time, compel a life off course until one day the paths unchosen might return as speculation.