Occasionally my mind has worked like a Polaroid camera, capturing a moment with both precision and clarity. Like in a movie, I can recall these moments as if they are a slideshow in my head: the expressions, the tone of voice, and the script. They are as vivid to me as if the had been printed, ensconced in a small white box with room for notes underneath.
You are among them, hanging from a string of similar photographs that periodically parade before my eyes.
We are standing across the room from each other like strangers. I have too many words to say to you, but I cannot. Your mouth hardens in a straight, closed line underneath two tell-tale eyes. I know what you are thinking.
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( hippies always welcome )