Matt Greenwood
Bio
Photographer and Creative Professional in Bath, UK.
Stories (1/0)
For Iceland and other Dreams
There was absolutely nothing remarkable about the small, battered black book that lay in his lap. The spine was coming apart at the edges, frayed binding and torn chips of leather telling a story of a life of use. The cover -mottled with patches of alternating rough and smooth leather worn down by years of handling, was a patchwork of history written in friction. He hadn't dared open it yet, his hands still locked around the frail, bony hand dangling off the edge of the pristine hospital bed. Like the book, the hand was worn and weathered, translucent skin clinging loosely to what remained of the once strong bones beneath. Finn could barely feel a pulse, a movement - any indication that his grandfather was more than a lifeless husk. Each ragged wheeze preceded an agonising silence, a pause that opened a gaping chasm in Finn's stomach until another whisper of air escaped those dry and pallid lips. A strained rhythm stretched across the dying hours of sunlight, hypnotic and exhausting, until the sun dipped below the faintly glowing clouds and the rhythm ended.
By Matt Greenwood3 years ago in Wander