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More from ~artisjustfrozenmusic

Synesthesia
God forbid they find out. I never understood how they couldn't hear them talking, their voices buzz like radios in my head, with static between outbursts.

Can't they, can't they?

Can't they hear Wednesday crying? How she aches with the weight of it all?

How Thursday laughs, callous, and Tuesday tries to sooth?

Tuesday's a sweet thing. Like boiled candy on my tongue.

Monday never listens and if he does it's only to lecture. He is black, unsweetened coffee in the sticky, early hours of the morning.

Sunday is so wrapped up in his own troubles to think about others. He never sleeps, so he never stops. He yawns like a baby bird for his mothe
Rain
It’s cold. But he only feels it on the inside. The rain falls cool onto his face, and makes tiny cloud of steam on the pavement. It's hot against his back. He stares at the sky, dark as tar, and thinks. He does that a lot, and people he doesn’t even know, say he spends too much time in his own head. But he likes it there, it’s warm and comfortable, no one else can get there, because it has no longitude or latitude, nor a street address; indeed, it is not a physical place. It is more of a time, though you will not find it on any clock face, watch, or sundial. It perches right on the brink of lucidity, on the precise point betwee
She dreams of you and smiles
She closes her eyes and dreams of a world spent with a person who recognises her words, regonition is bliss. She dreams a dream witout limitations, in a reality of blue guitars, pinwheels, and impossible machines. Her vision collects pictures to dream this perfect idea. She realises that a solution speaks in rhyme, shifting the possibility, putting together a journey of meaning to decide the obvious truth you will find in this life. She wishes with thoughts of random beauty, that tommorow with being in colour. And finally, after the onslaut she comes to, without the fear of first impressions, she smiles as he touches his lips to her hair, and

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Blueby ~artisjustfrozenmusic

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I know I know. Another ferris wheel shot.

But can you blame me?

Holga on Kodak Ektacolour 160 film.
Category: Photography / Architecture / Bridges & Suspended Structures

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Submitted on
March 26, 2010
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