ephemeral-artifacts

It was the day of the manic rush at the sky, that I torn down the veil before me, unwittingly condemning myself to live in the exposure. Living became survival and survival was everything, but no beautiful protection remained. I remember peering out from hiding, first with paranoid eyes, then with critical eyes. This morning I gleamed a look, an ephemeral flash of something, something previously obscured by the veil. First I thought it was beauty, then revealed it was something more, something much more. It circled in front of my eyes, it circles in front of my lens. With homage and respect, a devotion all consuming, I slave to capture