3/31/08 01:31 am

A photograph I'd of you next to the marble house. It must had been last Autumn—the ashes on the trees in Van City look just like any other October. The sky was a blend of maroon and mandarin. There was a 60s white t-bird parked right there and you were staring right through the lens of the camera. Your gaze spoke of all the thoughts in your head. I could hear every word; every picture.

It's been awhile. You were gone.

All that's left is a photograph that captured only what was seen at that moment. What was outside of it—forgotten. What was real what was thought what was felt were nothing more than a fragmented memory that evoke all sense of momentary loneliness. Everything outside of it is enveloped by darkness. No exact inkling of the situation after. Everything blocked.

Buried the photograph in the backyard. I noticed.