About

An aging child, prematurely graying hair and leathery skin. More likely to rise before the sun and eat unhealthy amounts of egg yolks, than to stay out late, howlin at the moon. Prepping camera gear in the dark, chasing sunrise-lit mountains and then often pastries has consumed and fulfilled his twilight years. The friends who once loved him most have become increasingly bored by his existence and tales of seemingly fruitless wilderness explorations. They long for a time when they'd float aimlessly in the neon-lit hours, sleepless nights fueled by cheap toxins and hopes of a more cinematic life. While some still hope for fame and fortune, he dreams of being afraid in the woods, scrambling to find the sun. Post Meridiem social gatherings induce an anxiousness similar to a selfish child on Christmas Eve, meticulously calculating the welcomed predicaments of the morning: How many hours till we get to wake up? What will the clouds look like in the morning? Will the sunrise provide a landscape to justify his indifference and early exit? Which bakery is nearest to here and what time do they open and more importantly, how quickly do they run out of ham&cheese croissants? Ashamed by his obsession with bakeries and how many of their products end up in his mouth, deceitful tales are spun to the ones who inquire about the fullness of his belly. The only lie his wife ever hears, is when her question is, "Hey fat man, how many pastries did you eat this morning?"

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