How I hate my shoulders
Not the way they look
Freckled and narrow
Nor the burdens they carry
Without protest
Just the way they slope
Lacking decisive angles
How they like to slide
Sleeves and bags
Down to my elbows
When you never follow
Their descent with
Your fingertips.
community service at the retirement home is depressing. the dim lighting and the ever tired residents in their beds, looking anything but content and comfortable. endless halls, i stare at the floor.
i will never forget looking into the rooms, and noticing a fragile and extremely thin old woman curled up into a ball, naked. she looked so sick and hopeless.
but it’s a beautiful day outside! i wish i could enjoy the nice weather. instead, i’m hopefully brightening up the old folks’ day at the home.
i feel… strange.
just bought ten rolls of B+W film, motivation to go to the dark room, bid on some cool cameras, just developed a roll of 35mm colour film that came out pretty okay, going home this weekend AND GETTING SHIT DONE.
i wish the other night wasn’t such a blur. i vaguely remember your face, you driving me through the city, laying in my bed and admiring all the pictures on my wall. i wish i remembered conversations; details. i feel like such a fool!
