Head transplant.

Where do broken statues go? Taking to the streets it seems. We spotted them while taking a road trip for the day. There they were. All huddled together around a closed shop. Their fate unknown, except that they were no longer wanted at their original location. We stopped. Walked around. Saw. Captured. Wondered. Only to leave with a few memories of abandoned objects.

Leaning for support.

The contrast.

Disintegration.

Tenderness.

Mercy.

Dust to dust...

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