Friday, June 16, 2017

The Frame

I know that if we had just grown up together with someone who knew how to frame us, we would have beautiful compositions of our bodies together. My legs elongated around you, with just the right amount of sun kissed hue. Our faces lit by the dimmest of candle light. Our teeth as white as paper. How rapturous it must be to have flawless documentation of moments spent together, the pose almost meaning more than the experience itself. The angle. The crop. The backdrop. Just right.

But we grew up capturing the blurry instant that had no filter. Our bad wardrobe decisions, cratered faces and wooded-lots bare for everyone to see. Maybe no physical documentation exists for those moments. Did they even happen?

I'm sure that the feature of our faces could look proper with professional direction. The height of my heels would be perfect. The fold of your suit, superb. The artist would know just where to place the contrast and bump up the shadow to make us look otherworldly, the most in love. 

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