Your eyes are manuscripts into which you scribble heavy notes, hesitant on my lips startling with black each and every white virgin page… Our story grows quietly, the language is indelible, destiny is guaranteed, beginnings are forgotten and the end is misty in the moment that lives on, beautiful and weak burning anxiously, afraid of dying, like the setting sun trapped in a photograph. ~ Claudia Gauci (Middle Photo by David K. Shields)