Hampton Beach, NH
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Kick the rusted scrap-iron of my memories and dreams / Yeah, here's a busted compass ... look, the needle's standing still / Much as some folks hate to lose their way, me, I pray to God that I will / I got a confession; I never ever had no appetite for pain / So it's a mystery to me why I like walking in the ghost town ... ghost town of my brain (Jim White)
© Castellammare del Golfo, Italien, 2024, Florian Fritsch
he walked with hands in his coat pockets, steady, unfazed by the wind. i watched him from the promenade in can pastilla, where chairs were still flipped and the season hadn’t started yet. he didn’t stop. didn’t hesitate. i framed him right between the rows of straw umbrellas, like a character from a film with no ending. the beach was waiting, and so was the sea.
Sitting backwards / In the backseat / In the darkness / Beside me / It's a late start / It's a long drive / You're a mountain / Counting headlights / The stillness / Thereness / My home / Polaris / You're a mountain / I'm confounded / Our holy days are wiped away / In your blizzard cold, the thread was frayed (Molly Parden)
© Palermo, Italien, 2024, Florian Fritsch