iPhone 5 shot
Small things, lost in the deep blur of land and sea’s mourning. The haze of undying, burning off the gray of uncertain paths, revealing color and contrast where before there was only wandering without a hand to hold. Cold tears and solemn reflection clinging to icy shores as small hopes soar almost unseen in the diaphanous gown of early. Push on. Await the next impatient bleed, the laceration of frail daily context from which scars of repetition will mold soft skin into hardened versions of ourselves.