Icicles like dragon teeth hang from my house. They drip, drip, drip, like blood in the sun. Like crooked piano keys they dangle precariously from the edge of the roof. Wet, cold spikes, remnants of a crippling storm, they let gravity pull down their tears and drop them to the ground. The sun’s orbish glow mingles with the ice to create glistening starlight like space… And I FINALLY watched the last episode of Game of Thrones.

Photos and text by

Aaron Echoes August