Just written now. Based on a friend's photo album. The hanging lights of orange under sky, yet above me, sings. Peeking around a corner, whisping down stairs. Everything was square sticks, and velvety texture. Her shadow kept images of everything and told secrets from that night. I was reminded. This was every park and every street corner I ever knew, too. --jacobus, '10.
The feeling would be a night time adventure through the downtown of your hometown, years after moving away. The message, if there is a clear one at all, is nostalgia. This is supposed to be a reflection of a friends photo album, which documented aforementioned downtown adventure. Sorry I've been throwing a couple "foul balls" your way, Rambleon. Or that pretty much everyone on the forum has. Maybe you should relax a little on the criticisms. While they are healthy for one's art, the outright dick attitude you deliver them with is uncalled for.
