The unknown Scotsman
@theunknownscotsman.bsky.social
I’m The Unknown Scotsman — a wandering photographer with ADHD, a life of addiction, and a head full of chaos. I shoot what’s broken, quiet, and nearly forgotten. This isn’t polished. It’s personal.
A once-soft witness to quiet lives, now slumped and rain-soaked on the curb. Left to face the sky alone, with no one left to sit and remember.
July 30, 2025 at 5:13 PM
A once-soft witness to quiet lives, now slumped and rain-soaked on the curb. Left to face the sky alone, with no one left to sit and remember.
Looking back down the corridor feels like staring into a life I stepped out of and never fully returned to.
That door, once an entry, now just an echo.
Peeling paint, stale air, the kind of silence that clings to your coat.
I walked through it once, thinking I had time.
That door, once an entry, now just an echo.
Peeling paint, stale air, the kind of silence that clings to your coat.
I walked through it once, thinking I had time.
July 30, 2025 at 4:54 PM
Looking back down the corridor feels like staring into a life I stepped out of and never fully returned to.
That door, once an entry, now just an echo.
Peeling paint, stale air, the kind of silence that clings to your coat.
I walked through it once, thinking I had time.
That door, once an entry, now just an echo.
Peeling paint, stale air, the kind of silence that clings to your coat.
I walked through it once, thinking I had time.
The staircase remembers more than I do.
Each step a groan beneath old boots and bad choices.
Cold walls. Damp air.
Door on the left, I used to call it home.
Funny how a photo can feel heavier than it looks.
Each step a groan beneath old boots and bad choices.
Cold walls. Damp air.
Door on the left, I used to call it home.
Funny how a photo can feel heavier than it looks.
July 30, 2025 at 4:53 PM
The staircase remembers more than I do.
Each step a groan beneath old boots and bad choices.
Cold walls. Damp air.
Door on the left, I used to call it home.
Funny how a photo can feel heavier than it looks.
Each step a groan beneath old boots and bad choices.
Cold walls. Damp air.
Door on the left, I used to call it home.
Funny how a photo can feel heavier than it looks.