For not all things can be captured in the memory, so we made photographs;
A store for all the voiceless laughter and the tender glances of the divine which pass right through those purple skies;
And how the sunlight silently falls for the burnt amber eyes, while the shadows of the curled lashes stand amidst their love guarding the golden sight;
And how the flowing water weaves itself to mirror the world upside down just to fulfil the desires of your floating mind which longs for a place to hide;
And how a single stone could distort the entire world you had affectionately created and almost dived into.
That is something I intensively love about photographs-
They are the proof that once, even if just for that single moment, everything was unbroken, faultless and beautiful,