Scrapbooking some photo memories now as I wait for the Metro. Again, I stare at the homeless with no roof, no shelter, no love. Alone on the street of life, picking splinters of broken dreams only they can hear. Fragments of a battered spirit, crumbs of memories of distant past -- Dreamy illusions for the future. A woman sits next to me and watches me pull photos from my files and whistles... that child is love! She reads the number of photos labeled in my scrapbook file 9,843 photos? she cackles. Now I look at my dreams in a file folder and think... scrapbooking moments are just... borrowed affections, for a time long since gone. I cry... for time is running against the sands of time -- Jewel Shepard
Posted on: Fri, 23 May 2014 01:48:56 +0000
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