I have this picture of him somewhere. And I say somewhere because digital ones are easier to forget, lose, misplace, delete, than the old 35mm.
I miss that simplicity.
But I have this picture of him somewhere on an old computer or flash drive or CD. I took it from a long way off. He's sitting at the edge of a pier surrounded by water so blue it's hard to watch.
You actually have to zoom in to see his face turned down in sunny shadow. And that's when you realize his eyes are closed, his face intensely peaceful, Roman, limp. But you have to zoom.
His legs are outstretched, shoulders back, palms planted to warm coquina, immobile. He's no longer wet; the sun has dried speckled skin leaving sandy remains.
A few minutes later he opens his eyes and locks in on me. A gay man in shorts walks by to flirt. We take a picture of a little boy until his parents scoop him up, up and away.
I want to ask what he was thinking, but my eyes burn from the salt and we need to figure out just then how to make it stop.
3 comments:
I will forever be pleasantly astonished by our parallels.
Love.
http://thisbugslife-in-words.blogspot.com/2008/08/gift.html
such a poignant snapshot in time. walk good. biglove.
Thank you, my lovelies. Sometimes fiction is more real than truth.
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