Pick it up and feel it’s cold soft edges against your broken angel fingers. White against black. Feel it’s irregularities, it’s defaults, it’s shinning beam of hope. Dream only of what you could do. Look around to see if only someone could be watching you from afar…If only… Something in the way she breaths at the same pace as I do. Something in the way she sees with my eyes and I with her’s. You know you’re right. You know you’re right. But is it really so crazy? I make love to her every time I look through her empty eyes and fill them with my world, my thoughts. She is my little pleasure, my passion, my way of showing my world to the world. I brag about her, spend money on her, love her, feed her all and spend tons of energy on her…Isn’t she a little bit like a human? Isn’t she a little bit like me? Maybe I’m dumb, maybe just happy… I think I’m just happy. Is it such a crime to love? I love you. I love you. But I need her to make satisfy me. I get my trip out of photography, some out of ecstasy. I think I’m dumb, maybe just happy.
P.S.
Credits to Nirvana for subtle little quotes in there…and to Mathieu for understanding I still love him.
