an epithet to the experience from January

^{The tenth day of the first month of the year two thousand and nineteen}

Pictures

are shreds of divinity granted to us, who could never comprehend the sheer force of godhood, for they preserve a moment’s time, for what our crude appreciation could label ‘an eternity’. The temporal feat could also bear the title of ‘cheap rip-off’ due to the little insight it offers in respect to the bright horizon that is future or the long road behind us that is past.

On this day,

three hundred and sixty-five days prior, my company had the fortune of Max’s presence. Unwittingly, I took a photo of another that would come to be recognized as ‘a product of the passionate photographer’. Confess I must, that my rapt enjoyment came from the thought of another opportunity. Once again, my pressures and pains would cease as the thrill, the unadulterated joy of capturing my visions, blew my all my cares away, much like a frigid gust did that night, and this night.

---

I

will always reminisce; I will always wrap myself in nostalgia. Familiar scenes and sensations will warm me, for doubts of the unknown, what lies ahead sends a chill down my spine. Those present memories, dances with fate, light my fire.

^{Print available upon request.}