Back in the primitive years of slides and negatives and waiting at the mailbox, we had this problem. We had to wonder what 36, 72 or more shots would look like when the mail arrived. And we'd pour through things we felt were sure masterpieces, only to feel our hopes go flaccid. But then, in that small yellow box, if we were really lucky there'd be something like this.
Now the only way to go back to that place at low tide is to pull out the fading Kodachromes. They are like tiny colored portals to a time that was thirty years ago. And any poetry that the moment made, is turning golden and darkening just a certainly as the old mages.
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