Leaving Room
writing by Archie Collins, photography by Kelsey Dillow
The farther I drive, the more the world softens around me. The roads grow quiet, shoulders dusted with wildflowers. Signs of human life are few and far between: driveways stretch longer, fading into cracked gravel. Fences look more handmade, weathered by time and disaster. Mailboxes lean, patched with duct tape or missing altogether. The air holds a rhythm that feels older than anything I’ve managed to hold onto.
