BEN NORTHON

BEN NORTHON 

Showing 1 - 8 of 8 items
  • One evening dry and arid, in a saloon seedy character, our glances crossed. Its hair felt freedom, big spaces wild and its skin, like a light fragrance of tobacco, something of bird and gilded. It left one night, pushed by the call of the high plains. Sometimes its memory cherishes me like a wild breeze. Its glance, its odor, smoke escaping from its lips.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

  • There was its massive silhouette, cutting out in the incipient paddle. And its hands seeking in the waterway nuggets and gold dust. It was old mining, come with shovel and pickaxe to discover new seams. He me taught the patience and the slow drying of the tobacco. I hung to the wall his tools, memory of treasure ever found and unexpected friendship.

Showing 1 - 8 of 8 items