They moved through parallel lives after hours. Birds slept. The building heaved a sigh in appreciation of its solitude, humbly cradling the night watchman. No superman swept overhead. A boat wept in the harbor. Transsexuals laughed, stumbling home in fantastic heels. Tom Waits smoked a cigarette at the edge of a gas station twenty-seven miles out of town, casting the glowing butt away. The trees all wore the veils of widows. A glass bottle shattered into the silence of 35th street. A girl wished to be loved like the Taj Mahal. The moon glared down at them all jealously.
1 comment:
Enjoyed reading your poetic words, sentences, paragraphs. You are an amazing photographer too. Love how the night shot looks...so surreal.
Joyce
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