"there's no place for me." a man of nowhere, a man of black heart from the dead end streets. "regret runs through me. i am no one, i am nothing, i am a man of defeat. what's left for me? whats left for me?" he thought of those open roads, his mother praying alone, that vagrant anthem and the field sung hymns, the cowardice forever following him. "what's left, what's left for me? the world has turned it's back on me. there's no place for me." a sullen walk to the chapel stairs. "regret runs through me." a hard pull on that white oak door to face up those fears. There's no place for me. @sincerityinvain - - - Photos taken while travelling Europe.