He’s an artist of reality. He shootsseconds after the shutters clickwhen people aren’t posing anymore. Only with his eyes.
I’m drowning in a sea of words, she saysYou don’t want to be rescued, he observesSo she asks if they can write a story together.
Her laughterexplodedinto a thousand piecesthat went skippingover his wonder. One stuckdeep in his heartand bled when she left.
Life with youis like being on a merry-go-round, she says.But, he asks, did you see the view?Yes, she says, on our next upswing.
You learnt to float, she yells,ducking under him smoothly.When she surfaces,he’s walking on the water.Away.
She took the towel he offered. And then his hand. White gown, still pristine in colour, if not form. He watched her peel it off, lace clinging to her curves. Trim the hem, she told him, it trips. And she tossed it to him as she wen to call the…
I’m throwing a party, she says,and you’re not invited. Fine, he replies,Then be sure not to send me the bill.
Let us drift on an ocean of ideas and call it conversationLet’s share an AHA! moment and mistake it for compatibilityLet us feel the camaraderie of fellow voyagers and call it love I will if you will. Shall we call it a date?
Love is blind, he says and falls asleep.So cliched, she thinksBut she takes off her glassesAnd snaps them in half. #ideastory View on Path
Five of us in this photograph, she says,I wonder where the rest are.Six, he thinks,I was behind the camera. But she’s already looked away.#ideastory View on Path