We are in a procession of cars on the way to the crematorium, everything moves slowly. Quiet reflection turns to a gaze out of the window and an unknown man stops to pay his respects, he tips his hat, he makes his way onward.
-
Pages
Categories
Archives
- January 2009
- November 2008
- August 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- December 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- January 2006
- December 2005
- November 2005
- October 2005
- September 2005
- August 2005
- July 2005
- June 2005
- May 2005
- April 2005
- March 2005
- February 2005
- January 2005
- December 2004
- November 2004
- October 2004
- September 2004
- August 2004
Post a Comment