But my obssession won't let me leave

Their faces remained smiling as he traced the outlines with his fingertip. The colours on the photo had long faded, turning to a light sepia.


It was wrinkled and delicate like the veins of late-autumn leaves, its edges slightly folded – it must have been nearly twenty years old. He touched his father’s right arm that rested on his five year old shoulder.


In that photo his father looks away but the boy stares at him; stares, remotely.


Even in his memories and reveries he was aware of a most strange curiosity – that he could never find or meet the gaze of his father.

Soul Mate pocket tee
Kookai bandage skirt
Pearl headband
Shy Shy chain bag
Zipia leather/chain bracelet

Just digging through some of my old writing!

xx