Racing thoughts, racing thoughts. All too real, you’re moving so fast now I cant hold your image. This image I have of your face by the window, me standing beside you, arm on your shoulder. A catalogue of images, flashing glimpses then gone again. Every clear afternoon now I’ll picture you up in the air, twisting your heel, your knees up around me, my face in your hair. You scream so well, your smile so loud it still rings in my ears.
Canon PowerShot SX260 HS
A message from Anonymous
I have one I prepared earlier?
"Nothing’s changed. You’ll go home. You’ll be bored. You’ll be ignored. No one will listen to you, really listen to you. You’re too clever and too quiet for them to understand."
Neil Gaiman (via indistinct)