Myth as Providence

January 4, 2014June 26, 2015

Written by Mike Yost (Photographer/Writer)

“We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Learning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar.”

— T.S. Eliott, The Hollow Men

Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2015

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Before I was walking the streets of Denver with my camera, I sat inside my apartment (and a few bars) drafting a novel in grad school while studying existentialism.

It’s a narrative of a guy falling headfirst into an existential crisis, mostly drinking his way through self-hatred, the need for connection, and the weight of loneliness as the days are stacked on each other in piles like old photographs curling at the edges, soon to fade and slip silently into oblivion.

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