Like a photograph so old that no one remembers where it was taken. Like a memory so brittle it's not recollected, lest it's destroyed. Like an old book with a stranger's name on it.
Like waiting for an eternity for the end.
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And I think "I wonder what it smells like inside. I bet the seats are really cushy..."
And the end that lasts an eternity!
old cars are beautiful
in your photographs i find traces of you
of someone who has the ability to extract from the outside what lies at its core;the essence
stunning,as always
would have missed this, if it wasn't for radiotooth. am glad i didn't.
you're giving me a job next year. I want to learn from you. end of story.
I'd show you a portfolio but it refuses to upload.
phuck.
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