Sunshiyn — Artwork and blog of Megan Zupan

Nodding off in a beat up chair, a relic of the seventies, thinking of tomorrows. A repose of sadness that bewilders many...yet all too familiar to the thinker. Blinking away the years as boxcars on a train...graffittied remnants passing with the breeze. The rails grind, spark every now and again...the ushering of a new dawn. Unwanted by the nostalgic, the young at heart...but endured out of necessity all the while. For even when there is no longer a tomorrow, time does not, will not cease to exist.

The old man knows this...more than his heart will allow him to admit. So he waits. Fearing his ambition has gone with his eyesight, his hearing. Human nature dictates a primal fight for survival...yet leaves the revelation of that survival up to the individual to do with as they will. A person is not born harboring goals...these are mercurial entities; simulated amid torrents of reality.