New York Missive #2

I have to find a way to photograph this city on my phone. It’s not a clean and clear thing, it’s a feeling, a muddy poetry of grasped symbols and reflected ideas. This is no time for perfect squares and rules of thirds, sharp focus or crisp exposures. How will I make this machine of perfection bend to my degraded whims… …turning and tossing at night, jet lagged and drifting away from sleep at threes, fours and fives of the AM. Precision data is available on these particular reveries, but you can’t respond, or you don’t. The silence taunts me, on hold, for what you want and think of me, twisting in white sheets aching for you to, let’s at least say, breathe on me.