wtf pwm

from To the Chapel of Light: A Film-in-Verse

Joshua Young

dear brothers,

so, you’re at loose ends with it all? imagine if a camera was there, hand-held, as if it was stitched into the moment to hover and watch. there, no one can touch without that dull ache of work like a tower never rescued.

all those books and books like filled parking spaces and silences where something cold and damp gets caught between, sort of waiting to be taken.

remember how he used to stand in the room and stare at his children like he was reading a map, while they half-eyed him, half-smirked, blinking like the flip of light switches?

when they talk to each other the space between their bodies swells; conversations hemmingway would kill for, those hills-like-white-elephants carry on and mumble, only there’s coca-cola and cigarettes perched between fingers.

a family like that will always silhouette itself in doorways. those are the things we have learned from windowsills and curtains.

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