It’s been eight years since I’ve been able to actually follow through with a solid series.  Last night, I decided it was time to buckle down and get one going.  
I plan to start out slow with this entire series, perhaps embark on a larger concept in the near future.
And so, welcome to “Found,” a photo & design series by Nathan Morris 
Found -  ”01/11”

It’s been eight years since I’ve been able to actually follow through with a solid series.  Last night, I decided it was time to buckle down and get one going 

I plan to start out slow with this entire series, perhaps embark on a larger concept in the near future.

And so, welcome to “Found,” a photo & design series by Nathan Morris 

Found -  ”01/11”

as youth, we succumb to the hierarchy of those who falsely think for themselves. as youth, we are controlled by those who are ruled by their elders and trained to make others feel as slaves, meaningless individuals.
how often it is, that we are taken away by someone’s mind and forced into the gutter of oblivious nothingness.  
crooked past, and we chose to erase. 

as youth, we succumb to the hierarchy of those who falsely think for themselves. as youth, we are controlled by those who are ruled by their elders and trained to make others feel as slaves, meaningless individuals.

how often it is, that we are taken away by someone’s mind and forced into the gutter of oblivious nothingness.  

crooked past, and we chose to erase. 

For my daughter, things will be different

Father: I walked in your shadow for so long. Now, I have holes in my shoes. I never once wanted to let go, holding on. I was always holding on. How sad you are now; I believe not in your creator, but myself. I used to think we deserved it all. Hopscotch lifestyle, and we were always your half-step. Now, I have realised that we’ve always been alone.

slamming, silence. from beyond the doorway i stand.
you let go of everything that i left you. 
from beyond the silence, slamming.
finding faith beyond the moments we cannot remember,
yet, we forget the things we just said,
stumbling on sentences once un-spoken.

perhaps i think to much,
i’ll be at my table thinking of the men you’ve kissed,
while the men you loved were standing beside you.
confused by what you said you were,
yet accepting.
constantly trying to throw everyone off,
everyone the same.
thinking the road untraveled was all the rage,
but, the road untraveled was all a play,
all a written before your time,
like a well played opera, 
like a well composed photograph
ripped off,
traced into an mixed media piece.

slamming, silence. 

the room echos, but no one person is to be found.

we let go of everything,
yet…
there was never a thing to grasp,
no hand to hold,
no light to find,
no moment to cope with,
no dream to come true.

how sad it is, now,
to know we are

alone.