Word: feels
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...dark room, I'm piecing together a number of photographs--to make a whole. All the pictures are of my little girls. She is more alive for me in photographs. Maybe that is sick, but I feel more free to look closely at her then. I have more time to look. At times I fall through her eyes and out darkness is no longer divided. Then we live in one great fear which is akin to love. The collection of photographs is an attempt not only to record but to incorporate the seven years of her life. I realize...
...pants. . . . Her eyes are unfathomably deep. Deep as the eyes of a hypocrite who suddenly discovers he must adhere to one of his fronts to survive. Deep as the eyes of a martyr discovering cowardice. Deep as the eyes of a politician turning from an applauding audience and suddenly feeling that only the chair is real. And maybe, at that routine and commonplace moment of rage, she knew something, felt something like the cutting of teeth, like doom., I'm not going to use the eyes in this photo. I'm using the bars of the crib, blown...
...schooled soul looking through the drapes is encased in a cadaverous face. The eyes of the face have no significance save their cheerful twinkle, winkle one night. Out smile is friendly and wolfish. Our teeth nash concepts. The eaten letters are sparkling bits of dirty ice. We don't feel so all alone. Our's is simply the change of space. The place is the same. He saw himself across the street and waved suddenly, remembering that he was not alone. He waved at some bleating sheep folding their fleece in a mauve halo above the city. His arm disappeared...
...dreams so that I might live them. But I must tell you something first, I have lied to someone about you. I mentioned farming. Silly, I know, but I through the guy had some similar drop out in mind and I brought it up to make him feel good. But I started feeling lousy. I was a bum, Pumpkin. And I had to tell you before it is accomplished...
...works. Fuck the things that have hung me up. I'm going to beat them, beat myself sort of. Something must be done. You know that. And I don't know how to tell you this Nathan. I've sort of out you on I guess, unintentionally. I feel bad." Scott felt terrible; he wished he could disappear. "In short, Nathan, I'm going to fuck the pumpkin...