pouqueville

oder türen: laufen nie weg, immer irgendwas dahinter. dankbare opfer. und immer irgendwie mysteriös.



und so symbolisch noch dazu.



On almost the incendiary eve
Of deaths and entrances,
When near and strange wounded on London's waves
Have sought your single grave,
One enemy, of many, who knows well
Your heart is luminous
In the watched dark, quivering through locks and caves,
Will pull the thunderbolts
To shut the sun, plunge, mount your darkened keys
And sear just riders back,
Until that one loved least
Looms the last Samson of your zodiac.

also wenn das
nicht symbolisch ist...

...aber andererseits fotografiere ich plötzlich sowieso so ziemlich alles, was mir vor die linse kommt.

(it's just a gadget, man.)