10 February 2020

9//365

Untitled

once

ava bought a used book at the tea house and when she opened it, found a small photobooth frame wedged deep between the yellowed pages. pictured in the frame was a youngish man with longish hair. nineteen seventy something, I am sure of it.

it was as good as finding money. and it felt a little bit like maybe we'd completed some sort mysterious lost and found circuit-- what, with the lost chinatown polaroid and all. 

as if balance, somehow, had been restored. 

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