quiet company

sometimes we sacrifice the moment for a photo. fixed and blessed pasts cement in visual time. the flawed resonance ebbs and flows according to mixed feelings of honesty and delusion. in our minds in our guts, frames of energy slip in exchange for capture. experience in a cage. soon, the attachment to the past begins to thin in interest and in soul. our lives are not a nightclub or a prison, infirmary or ward, only dioramas with suspicious doors on all sides. opening to delays and freedoms and something larger. a blanket is only so thin, body so warm, planet large. trust something more than your seductive eyes.