Can we talk something else?

Can we talk about something else?

Helloooooooooo obsessed

Helloooooooooo

Helloooooo

there. I like to walk at night, and the reason why is going to sound creepy, though, I suppose

if something sounds creepy, it probably just is. The reason I walk at night is that I like

to catch glimpses of what people are up to through their windows. From the street, I'm

not skulking up with my pants on buckled puppet show at your bedroom window, just reefing

on or no. Nothing like that. Just a glimpses as I stroll by. It's like walking through a

living art gallery. Every scene is backlit. The subjects can't see you or an aware of you,

so they act perfectly natural. Most scenes are identical. A TV glows in a dark living

elongated human shadows maybe shift on a wall. But once in a while, I'll glimp something

truly special. Like an elderly couple sat down at their dining table, working a puzzle together.

This kind of thing is what I hope to glimps, though I be lying if I said it's what I'm looking for.

What I'm looking for is the dirty truth, something we each hide constantly. Every moment we're exposed

we manipulate it, warp it, project an image, one that is laid out a little more bare through your

bay window at 8.55 pm, perhaps, while I'm out there hunting snapshots of it from the road,

again from the road. I'm always relieved to capture nothing nefarious with my glimpses,

like with the old couple, who so easily put the pieces together together. The light is warm,

the walls cluttered with a lifetime's worth of knick-knacks. The old dears always seem so

content. If I slow enough, it's near certain that one will raise a cup of tea to their lips.

...