|doe eyed, limp little trout. you have a light, no...|
The lens narrows the frames perception while it lengthens it's depth of field. It's just like a squeezed cat or another squeezed cat in a box. It’s a long empty glass that you've left to be filled Frida; burdened as you are with such simple and unwieldy harlequin lines. It's a band of ringlets tethered in smoke and the two really wet bottles that you've dreamed about for all of the week. Oh the tides of maybe, the run of your constant heels reminding me again and again. I've had this in mind before.