Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Who Takes the Photographers Picture?!

The camera does, duh! 
This is that tripod life, 
Seems like, street lights, glowin'
Happen to be just like moments, Passin'
In front of me….



 I love you without knowing how or when or from where,
 I love you straightforwardly 
without complexities or pride,
So I love you because I know no other way than this:
Where I does not exist, nor you.
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand
So close that your eyes close
as I fall asleep.
-sonnet XVII



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