She's sideways again.

Half an hour.

Poof.

The next time she looked it was gone.

She moved through another day.

She found the curve.

Motionless, probably dead.

... this infinite gazing.

She got off the bus.

Neither were perfect.

... loving the impermanence of it.

She shot strawberries today.

She was tethered to all that she had ever been.

She has the luxury of space.

She'll make a salad.

... leave the faces to the imagination.

She couldn't stop thinking about the picture of the wall and how much she didn't like it.

We are all bag ladies in the end.

She had no desire to wield it around or to snap its lazy shutter.

I'm simply a snap shot girl, she said.

The light was still her friend and in the morning it was her religion too.

She looked down.

... a picture that would stir her heart.

She barely lifted her head.

She wanted to share the light and then look through their eyes to see what they saw.

She didn't know how to get in between the cracks.

She'd as soon eat it, as shoot it.

The page was blank.

She repeated things in her head.

That's something.