Work of Kyle C Mumford
There are days when I wonder what lays beyond the sunset. A place where we all race to, searching for a paradise that rests on the other side. Where the sky’s are cream colored with reds, oranges, and pinks. A place where the adventure never ends.
Is it heaven, or my own envision of heaven? The mystery will always be, will I ever see the place beyond the skyline…The place in which my own happiness rests. 

There are days when I wonder what lays beyond the sunset. A place where we all race to, searching for a paradise that rests on the other side. Where the sky’s are cream colored with reds, oranges, and pinks. A place where the adventure never ends.

Is it heaven, or my own envision of heaven? The mystery will always be, will I ever see the place beyond the skyline…The place in which my own happiness rests. 

I wish to return to a world where all is simple, a straight path with no whines and turns, a straight shoot to a happy life… But the easier they say things are as the years race by, the harder it is to manage ourselves. 
Only if we could walk the straight path once again…

I wish to return to a world where all is simple, a straight path with no whines and turns, a straight shoot to a happy life… But the easier they say things are as the years race by, the harder it is to manage ourselves. 

Only if we could walk the straight path once again…

Confessions of a Rebound Lover:
As I walk in and out of the shadows of the night, I soak in the nightlife of what New York has to give me. Swimming in my head, searching for answers I can not find. 
Time and time again I wonder if it was always me. An escape for one to tell their love, passion, heart, someone that would listen.  Listen to the voice we all hide trying to claw its way out deep with in the diaphragm. 
A few weeks of perfect romance, her head buried on what seemed to be its final resting place… Soon to just be a faded memory, forgotten in time like tears in rain… The smiles, the laughs, the sex, a distant memory of every single night you shared. All gone now, as each of their interests turn back to the one they ran from. 
One by one they return, a new face, a new story, each taking a piece of me. Soon to just be another rebound lover as I stroll the midnight streets of New York again and again…

Confessions of a Rebound Lover:

As I walk in and out of the shadows of the night, I soak in the nightlife of what New York has to give me. Swimming in my head, searching for answers I can not find. 

Time and time again I wonder if it was always me. An escape for one to tell their love, passion, heart, someone that would listen.  Listen to the voice we all hide trying to claw its way out deep with in the diaphragm. 

A few weeks of perfect romance, her head buried on what seemed to be its final resting place… Soon to just be a faded memory, forgotten in time like tears in rain… The smiles, the laughs, the sex, a distant memory of every single night you shared. All gone now, as each of their interests turn back to the one they ran from. 

One by one they return, a new face, a new story, each taking a piece of me. Soon to just be another rebound lover as I stroll the midnight streets of New York again and again…

As you walk the streets of Bushwick, Brooklyn on a hot summer night, you can hear the foreign sounds of music in its infancy stage of something new. Something new that will grow in the next few years, but nothing like discovering something when it’s just starting out!

As you walk the streets of Bushwick, Brooklyn on a hot summer night, you can hear the foreign sounds of music in its infancy stage of something new. Something new that will grow in the next few years, but nothing like discovering something when it’s just starting out!

Deep in the bowels of Brooklyn, experimental electronic music starts to take over. I’ve listened to all types of music, but this kind gets me. It’s hard to follow, dance to, ect. The only people that seem to enjoy it are the one’s who make it. 
When the DJ sets up, it looks so complex that I’m expecting this crazy sound to come blasting out. Only to reveal nothing but “BEEPS” and “FUZZ.” Only good thing it does is that the DJs just sit, so I have time to take a good photo.

Deep in the bowels of Brooklyn, experimental electronic music starts to take over. I’ve listened to all types of music, but this kind gets me. It’s hard to follow, dance to, ect. The only people that seem to enjoy it are the one’s who make it. 

When the DJ sets up, it looks so complex that I’m expecting this crazy sound to come blasting out. Only to reveal nothing but “BEEPS” and “FUZZ.” Only good thing it does is that the DJs just sit, so I have time to take a good photo.

The greatest part about being in your 20s is the fact that your interest in learning is still there. By learning, I mean learning about cultures and lives you have yet to know about. Some closer to home than you think. 
For me, Bushwick Brooklyn is a place I am always learning from the perspective of the under ground nightlife. A place where the young adult comes to find themselves… Every single one of them…

The greatest part about being in your 20s is the fact that your interest in learning is still there. By learning, I mean learning about cultures and lives you have yet to know about. Some closer to home than you think. 

For me, Bushwick Brooklyn is a place I am always learning from the perspective of the under ground nightlife. A place where the young adult comes to find themselves… Every single one of them…

Silence of the night, as a million voices in the city go unheard… Poor, rich, and broken, the internal struggle swallows each of us, drowning in a sea of silence, waiting to be heard. Each voice different, pure, and honest screaming to be recognized by your fellow neighbor…But afraid of ridicule, we hide the true nature of who we are, deep with in… Like food lodged in a throat, struggling and suffocating ourselves…

Silence of the night, as a million voices in the city go unheard… Poor, rich, and broken, the internal struggle swallows each of us, drowning in a sea of silence, waiting to be heard. Each voice different, pure, and honest screaming to be recognized by your fellow neighbor…But afraid of ridicule, we hide the true nature of who we are, deep with in… Like food lodged in a throat, struggling and suffocating ourselves…

The night was wet, pouring down like a scene from a film noir. The kinda night when the dark mysterious side of our character is revealed.
I ride the subway with the locals wishing of better days and better lives. Dreaming and thinking. The Hipsters all have left for the night, calling it in early from the rain… And I am on my way out, to see someone that believes I love them. Truth be told., I really don’t know. I have never fallen in love, never been told by someone they love me, never had sex and melted together, falling arm in arm, holding, touching, kissing, to the infinity of the night. 
I want to feel that way, but I don’t know how. I can give love, talk about love, get someone to fall in love with me, but I can never feel it… I wonder what it is, what causes me to not feel it. How? Why?  It’s like an endless search, looking for a needle in a mountain of hay…

The night was wet, pouring down like a scene from a film noir. The kinda night when the dark mysterious side of our character is revealed.

I ride the subway with the locals wishing of better days and better lives. Dreaming and thinking. The Hipsters all have left for the night, calling it in early from the rain… And I am on my way out, to see someone that believes I love them. Truth be told., I really don’t know. I have never fallen in love, never been told by someone they love me, never had sex and melted together, falling arm in arm, holding, touching, kissing, to the infinity of the night. 

I want to feel that way, but I don’t know how. I can give love, talk about love, get someone to fall in love with me, but I can never feel it… I wonder what it is, what causes me to not feel it. How? Why?  It’s like an endless search, looking for a needle in a mountain of hay…

Often on a weekend night, you can hear the thumping of music from with in what looks to be a bombed out building or a side door off a warehouse. A dark room with loud music that will keep you dancing to 5am. Either way, Brooklyn’s night scene, looks, and images sometimes have no words to go along with them.

Often on a weekend night, you can hear the thumping of music from with in what looks to be a bombed out building or a side door off a warehouse. A dark room with loud music that will keep you dancing to 5am. Either way, Brooklyn’s night scene, looks, and images sometimes have no words to go along with them.

The city at night has a totally new look, but when you add snow, street lights and a person walking right down the middle, the image becomes something else, more of an eerier vibe…. In a way it makes you think of 70s NYC. Deserted and creepy…

The city at night has a totally new look, but when you add snow, street lights and a person walking right down the middle, the image becomes something else, more of an eerier vibe…. In a way it makes you think of 70s NYC. Deserted and creepy…