sometimes I feel as if I am photo sensitive paper the world leaves imprints of images exposing a narrative that attaches itself to me as a string of memories in a darkroom where light enters and creates the shape of my identity
At a red light a magenta bougainvillea leaf floats gracefully through the air, drifting between the rigid gray toned creations of man, slowly settling onto the concrete road as it awaits the trampling of rubber tires, with no sympathy.