There's something about turning a photo black and white that changes it
A sad quality suddenly emerges
The photograph interrogates you
Asks you what you long for
Showing my back as I gaze upon the wild sea
What do I dream of? What do I fear?
Is it universal or original? Is there anything truly original?
It's funny the gray area is that between the lines
I've always found gray to be dismal, foggy, but not the truth
Black reveals the mystery and white purifies it
Gray still exists though
Their blended to nothing
I'm envious