It was cold out, the morning air crisp inside my lungs. I saw a man before me, placing his warm coffee on the lid of a trash can. His hands were strong, weathered by Father Time and the elements that came with surviving the streets of New York City. Yet somehow, his eyes were still soft. We smiled, greeted each other, and exchanged words before he allowed me to capture a photograph of his hand as it gently rested next to his coffee.
We all have our own journeys, and with that, our own stories, the ones we wrote ourselves, the ones others have written about us, and the remnants of those passed down to us by others. These stories and moments shape us, and they leave traces of themselves behind as they silently whisper their secrets into the world.
Through the power of the blockchain and my Hidden Stories contract, we created a beautiful convergence of my photography and my fascination with hidden stories, allowing collectors to leave their traces behind by adding their own hidden story to each HS NFT they own.
These stories will be cemented onto the blockchain, with another story being added every time they pass hands, connecting us all.
We all have our own journeys, and with that, our own stories, the ones we wrote ourselves, the ones others have written about us, and the remnants of those passed down to us by others. These stories and moments shape us, and they leave traces of themselves behind as they silently whisper their secrets into the world.
Through the power of the blockchain and my Hidden Stories contract, we created a beautiful convergence of my photography and my fascination with hidden stories, allowing collectors to leave their traces behind by adding their own hidden story to each HS NFT they own.
These stories will be cemented onto the blockchain, with another story being added every time they pass hands, connecting us all.
For years we've been tucked away behind masks, covering ourselves. Yet our hands are even more exposed than ever. I felt the need to dive deeper, isolating the traces of hidden stories upon our hands.
Weathered
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Weathered
- PriceUSD PriceQuantityExpirationFrom
- PriceUSD PriceQuantityFloor DifferenceExpirationFrom
It was cold out, the morning air crisp inside my lungs. I saw a man before me, placing his warm coffee on the lid of a trash can. His hands were strong, weathered by Father Time and the elements that came with surviving the streets of New York City. Yet somehow, his eyes were still soft. We smiled, greeted each other, and exchanged words before he allowed me to capture a photograph of his hand as it gently rested next to his coffee.
We all have our own journeys, and with that, our own stories, the ones we wrote ourselves, the ones others have written about us, and the remnants of those passed down to us by others. These stories and moments shape us, and they leave traces of themselves behind as they silently whisper their secrets into the world.
Through the power of the blockchain and my Hidden Stories contract, we created a beautiful convergence of my photography and my fascination with hidden stories, allowing collectors to leave their traces behind by adding their own hidden story to each HS NFT they own.
These stories will be cemented onto the blockchain, with another story being added every time they pass hands, connecting us all.
We all have our own journeys, and with that, our own stories, the ones we wrote ourselves, the ones others have written about us, and the remnants of those passed down to us by others. These stories and moments shape us, and they leave traces of themselves behind as they silently whisper their secrets into the world.
Through the power of the blockchain and my Hidden Stories contract, we created a beautiful convergence of my photography and my fascination with hidden stories, allowing collectors to leave their traces behind by adding their own hidden story to each HS NFT they own.
These stories will be cemented onto the blockchain, with another story being added every time they pass hands, connecting us all.
For years we've been tucked away behind masks, covering ourselves. Yet our hands are even more exposed than ever. I felt the need to dive deeper, isolating the traces of hidden stories upon our hands.