I love the smell of developer in the evening.

In a room as dark as pitch, a red bulb barely throwing out enough light to see my hand in front of my face I attempt to bring life and meaning to an image captured months ago on a 30 Euro plastic camera... and this poem keeps running through my mind...


                                                                                        
You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry
From seeds of April's sowing.


I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,
And yield—what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like!


You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:
Your look?—that pays a thousand pains.
What's death?—You'll love me yet! 

(You'll Love Me Yet by Robert Browning)

(Lulu by Kelly Humphries)