[winter summer dusty buena vista gusts]
[brush fire city skies]
the wind swept me up as dusk grabbed my heals. i made my way up the hill my feet carried me onward. i turned around and there lay the city. she was right there in all her little white boxes and spots of colors. the wind was cold the mountain was alone. night began to enter and my nose was cold.
2 comments:
winter summer dusty buena vista gusts, so right on.
so very sophia coppola for virgin suicides.
so one of my new favorite photographs. bravo.
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