Tomorrow Will Be Late
She kept running. Wind whipped at our hair and the frenzy in the silhouette was beautiful. I had never been out this far before. Hard to believe home was tucked into one of those cobalt corners of stylized steel that loomed like a frozen storm at the horizon. And so too when I turned again there another storm right in front of me.
...that the act of taking photos of yourself is the height of vapid stupidity and unchecked vanity. I wanna see a picture someone else took of you looking like a fresh bag of shit. Then I can know who you are.