Tuesday, 23 August 2011

postcards from italy

many times i thought i was in a dream. surely no place can be this beautiful — over and over again.

my body turned to a light, feather-like cloud each time the air (thin as it was) vacuumed into my lungs. and the stillness of the landscape made everything look as flat as cardboard. i thought if my arms reached out far enough, i could rip each scene off the wall.