Saturday went out with two mates to take some snaps. My lungs were filled with rubbish, every breath a struggle. Inside a stone quarry I visited earlier, my brain deprived of oxygen affluence doesn’t give a crap about pretty much anything. Taking pictures feels utterly useless. A bright white ribcage of a sheep grabs what’s left of my attention span. The air is dense and humid, I cough my lungs out. The next day I’ll be walking in another quarry by myself, at the bottom of the pit I find myself as a sick gladiator in the center of a rough amphi-theatre. A fox runs away escaping my eye leaving me with no-one to battle but myself.