My dad and his friends started a commune in the ‘70s in a farmhouse on a long, twisting rural road. Though it ended long before I was born, his stories of his time there live in my memories, as if I experienced them as well. I lived in a house he built on the same property, and spent my first few years looking under leaves for chantrelles and out the windows at the fog that would fill the valley every morning.
Strange new things
Strange new things
Strange new things
My dad and his friends started a commune in the ‘70s in a farmhouse on a long, twisting rural road. Though it ended long before I was born, his stories of his time there live in my memories, as if I experienced them as well. I lived in a house he built on the same property, and spent my first few years looking under leaves for chantrelles and out the windows at the fog that would fill the valley every morning.