Focus lost somewhere over forgotten years, use’s quota filled with only dust pressing keys. Set for observance, glimpses into an aging past, antiquated and the bokeh for a crisp present sprung from small footprints. Letters still the thread, new needles weave words, rounder edges and softer volumes with sirens’ calls cast the world over. Pulp cadence lost to electric glow, the fever of moments grow mercilessly short, our statements transient and feather weight. #irispad #bokeh #typewriter #vintage #glasses #spectacles #nofilter #antique #shotoftheday #literary_imagery #writer #writing #poem #poetry #teacup (at Type)