In an old... wallet box attic was an old faded photograph of a photographer. Meant to be... left alone put to rest forgotten it was since then brought back by nostalgia and the impossible life that was now to be lived without you. You liked to be... behind smiling through holding the camera as you were the photographer but not this time, as you were the photographed... In front of smiling at holding a pose while I became the photographer, photographing you, the freshly captured photographer in the faded photograph. In an old... dream heart memory you never faded but remained the still whole of a perfect silhouette. The perfect photographer preserved in the perfectly faded photograph for... love life forever.
I spent part of today listening to the album My favourite faded fantasy by Damien Rice and it made me think of the idea to write this piece