Photoshop Tutor and Retoucher
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Wednesday, April 9, 2008
FORLORN
We are shadows leaking into the greater whole,knife-thin mirrors spinning on a dime. You can taste our emptiness, wafer-crisp and insidious. We are gone, no spot can hold us for long, like the memory of salt near the edge of a vast ocean. And our own limits become the kind of time you can tell our lives by.
2 comments:
Anonymous
said...
the writer is obviously not a fan of flammable pants!
2 comments:
the writer is obviously not a fan of flammable pants!
he may not be Spanish, but he could use an Inquisition!!!
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