Jun 17 2005
Revisit
19|6|2004
Sunlight - the early morning variant - cuts in through the patio doors. Refractions slice the dirty floorboards splitting empty beer bottles and conjuring rainbows from empty wineglasses. The TV is on low, the walls are bare plaster and a three wheeled skateboard stands upright, proudly handicapped. In spite of all these irrelevant observations, the thing that you fail to see are your own tears slipping down the rough skin of your unshaven cheeks.
Your tears, your cheeks.
Not his.
Yours.
I was in a different place last summer. I really don’t want to go back to that dark place. But maybe I do in order to move forward…
(PS - my camera’s broken. no more photos for a while, it looks like!)