That perfect coldbutsoft orange, as it rises to meet the hour. 'It's about the timing- the time of day,' she would always stop to say.
'You go out on that one morning, early. And, just as your bones had forecast, you find it frozen and dripping with dew. But your sky is unclouded; the rivers dusting the valley reflect that precious blue. Young light, where do you run to day? How, young light, could I run for you.'
(I think I am ready. ready to
have my photograph taken,
for you see,
I know what I should do,
how I should be,
for whom alone it counts,
that is to say: for me.)
(I think I am ready. ready to
have my photograph taken,
for you see,
I know what I should do,
how I should be,
for whom alone it counts,
that is to say: for me.)