Pedestrian # 2

My school uniform. Red hair, smooth and red. Your black walls teemed with fear and a sour flavor in the environment. The proposal at the right place and at the wrong time. Midday sex, midnight sex. My desire to kiss even your bones. Your desire to pull out my soul with your body. The movie we never finished watching. Two songs to blow our ears out. Yes, we are a blues, a sad and confused one. A blues that will never sound.

The drawings and poems of an ex-love kept inside the drawer of your room. My mobile abroad screaming your unknown number.
That long distance call.
+57 +57 +57

Take a plane in a rush to reach me. You never reached me. Little gummy bears somewhere by the Parkway. You were a coincidence. One that's gone.

Photo by Ellen Hutchinson


Déjà vu, design, analog photography and meanderings.