Early morning, misty sunrise that can’t be seen. I am but a shadow, in your vision beyond. As you look for something more beautiful. The fields of gold lie beyond my soul. You won’t remember me tomorrow. I wouldn’t remember me, if I was not stuck with me. But I am.
Thousands drive past this rubble day by day. There is no place to stop. Even if there was, what would happen differently? Nothing.
But there is a boy. Who stares at me as he passes by. In his eyes, I see a story. Not his story, but the one he is going to write. I see his eyes frozen by the landscape, looking, not hearing a thing. Not even the traffic. He is not thinking of the story. He is dreaming of it. But he doesn’t know it.
So he captures what he sees, freezing it with a quick open-close of the shutter and carries on. Dreaming.