Idk.

Stanhope sheds his short life over pages primed with the seldom spoken and the often overlooked aspects of human existence split into seven soulful sections. Letting the flowers talk, and the spacemen walk through dust while children scramble onto broken barges. Letting a cup of coffee grow cold with an even colder conversation of a complicated relationship, while their hope thins with the looming thickness of the rope. When the beauty bounces or begins to peel, reality itself has never felt more real - and through the piercing song a dying yelp, maybe, just maybe, there's someone out there I can help.