TheFishing Hole Series - Art

On a trip to San Antonio Texas I came across a wooden bench near a private pond among the grass and surrounding trees with a small breeze in the air. The atmosphere was peaceful and menacing at the same time. As I approached the bench using my walking cane, I saw a child's fishing pole among the recent fallen autumn leaves. Immediately I felt the sense of "Traditions of Yesterday" and my own mortality creeping up on me, asking myself where did all the time go?

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