Won’t bad things ever end? Won’t dreams ever leave me alone? I’m more tired every day. Whenever there’s a choice it seems I always choose the wrong one. Plus I always give up too easily, and always loose something along the way. Someone following me could easily find me by the tracks I leave above the ground; tiny tears along the way.
(Photography: Porto, Portugal, September 24th, 2007 / Text: Lisbon, Portugal, December 5th, 2007)
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