Skip to content

PFS

June 23, 2013

Subsequent to her call, I spent the morning bleeding through and bleeding out, in much the same process that, I imagine, was now at work in those lost photographs from my youth, the captured moment losing definition in the evening of black and whites, moments preceding and following the instant of its taking, so much lost to me and lost to others, a span now become unaccountable in its own way, incapable of authentification though ever beckoning.

Advertisements
No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: