the camera thing

‘i write poetry when i have forgotten my camera,’ i said to her casually. ‘then i wish you to forget it more often,’ she replied with a hug. that’s that then.

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september 28

the little wings of a ladybird flash by my face, dissipating into the distance of speckled reds and greens and the smell of the leaves, falling. i regret forgetting my camera.

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