Tina Bell Vance

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Dry Dock

In an abandoned barn, an old wooden boat rests, long past its prime. Vines creep in from the edges, reclaiming the structure, as if the earth is trying to swallow it back into itself. The boat’s weathered hull is cracked and gray, telling stories of voyages never finished. Dust motes float in the filtered light, a quiet testament to forgotten dreams left to fade in dry dock silence.

Photographs — Dry Dock

In an abandoned barn, an old wooden boat rests, long past its prime. Vines creep in from the edges, reclaiming the structure, as if the earth is trying to swallow it back into itself. The boat’s weathered hull is cracked and gray, telling stories of voyages never finished. Dust motes float in the filtered light, a quiet testament to forgotten dreams left to fade in dry dock silence.