Hollow Folk
Nature of Death
There Was Music
A Poor Man’s Index
Our Dirt
Please tell me I existed.
Please tell me I sang.
Please tell me I was here.
Please tell me I sang.
Please tell me I was here.
Scans of dirt and text to express the intersection of grief, chicken and gravy, and the mounatins
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Thanabotany
A Bouquet For You
They Cut Down My Trees
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