it’s always a bit intriguing to me…sad but not in a way where i pity. it’s a desperate understanding i have for these people. it’s a horrible ache to uncurl the fingers, even if i’ve never touched them, watch them, drop them, on their way to the sun. those people you meet who burn with such a windwhipped flame, blown skyward by indignation or a festering fury or an inseparable sadness that they shoot inexorably on an arc aimed perfectly toward their own destruction. their lives are upended, spiraling, fractured, always darkening and utterly gothic tales of wreck and ruin. the friction and conflict they meet on their jagged way seems to soothe their overheated souls and they only respond to each incident with a deeper lean forward.
somewhere early they were stamped or carved or branded by the hand of fate. it was not light upon them in leaving directions home.
You already know I love this foto – paired with these words, it’s even more stunning. Wow.
thank you.
Reminds me of this photo, which I’ve always loved. But yours is better. http://tiny.cc/fvd8e
ah hell, well thank ya. :)