The church I grew up in was loving and kind, or so I thought. The only unforgivable sin was being a non-believer (looks like I fucked that up too though). I was forced to dedicate days of my life to that community and was confirmed under someone I considered to be a pretty chill pastor, only to find that years later he harbored bias against queer people and would refuse to marry same-sex couples. I watched as that congregation gradually fell apart as they refused to open their minds. I view this glitch photo as a commentary on one of the most photographed landmarks in New England. The title of this piece refers to "The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory" by Dali, one of my favorite paintings to visit.