about two years ago, i took this close-up picture of a rose; those early mornings when you had nothing to do, then suddenly catching a glimpse of lovely red by the table, freshly watered, unsuspecting, and inviting closer inspection.
it is not necessarily symbolic today though.
or perhaps it is.
the mood is not euphoric
not magical either
but not necessarily gloomy
feb14 was a night of dances and dust
a night of Michael's silence
a night of Michael's image
i never wanted him to come back
this is not a case of depression or hysteria
my logic knows more than that
and the net knows more than that. the powerful net knows more than i can ever write this time. it has kept my words outside my own reach. the arrogant web, the arrogant net, the arrogant code-born dirt. it has decided, outside sane reasons, to erase what was probably the longest post i could have posted. traitor. nothing but dirt. this stupid net.
michael please shatter the silence.
i am willing to listen.
pics po :)