(Photos by Matt Borowick)
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." -Macbeth