one photo. one hundred words. one story.
The woman had one of those old fashioned cameras, the kind that spits the picture out immediately.
She stands inside the door looking out at a vengeful summer storm.
You’re not the first person to walk here. Ridges and crevices have already been carved out by people careless as they were heartless.
They searched for hope in the river.
They stripped off their clothes on the shore.
We’re all just looking for shelter. We need to get out of the rain, find a canopy that protects us.
The sky is an unbroken sea of space. An artist’s brush has painted it something close to empty, a nothingness that lies flat and…
We make our first tracks and stop short when we realize what we’re doing.
She can’t sleep so she stands at the window, watching lights flicker on and off in other buildings.
They don’t say much on the drive. She leans against the passenger door, eyes shut.
There are clawed, bony hands reaching inside her, scratching and digging to get at places she thought she kept hidden.
In the end, we’re only a collection of our symbols.
They’re just going around and around, looking at the same scenery over and over, having the same conversations, sleeping in the same…
We live in different times. Your colors are different, your shades are bleached in nostalgia, your windows reflect things that happened…
Keep swimming. There’s always another side. You keep swimming until you reach it.
Eventually there will be just one of us left in the picture, standing there alone with a look of surprise on our face as if this wasn’t…
We slowly shed everything beautiful. We lose the grip on all that is vibrant and wondrous and we watch the best things about us do a slow…
While you were sleeping I walked outside. While you dreamed I sat under the sky and watched the dark fight for its space with the light.
There’s a world where everything’s barren, where the wind blows remnants of lives around like pieces of dirt.
A soft frost covers everything at first, thin powder that stretches across the surface of her life.
“It’s the going up,” she says. “Taking your feet off the ground, letting someone else lift and carry you, that’s hard.”
In that first stretch of morning, the world is half awake, half asleep and ideas and thoughts are still unsure which half they’re supposed…
“It will get better,” he says. “It has to.”
She’s not sure.
This place makes her feel hollow and all the secrets and lies she’s gathered up echo inside her as they try to escape.
There’s nothing left to say.
We were going to set the world on fire.
The sky, the sea, it’s all the same. We drift, we float.
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