i like to tell stories

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A Different Time, Repeated Patterns Of Specifics

Crocodile Tears – The expression comes from an ancient anecdote that crocodiles weep in order to lure their prey, or that they cry for the victims they are eating. The expression’s origin is that crocodile tears cannot be authentic because crocodiles cannot cry; they lack tear ducts. Yet this is a myth: Crocodiles possess lacrimal glands which secrete a proteinaceous fluid, just like in humans.

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Shakespeare Othello Act IV, Scene i:

“O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!”

Again, Shakespeare, Henry VI, part 2, Act III, Scene i:

“…and Gloucester’s show
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow, snares relenting passengers;”

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You Looking To Your Right, Your Mouth Open With Anticipation

You Looking At Me, Seemingly Softly Lustful

You, Eyes Closed, Mouth Open, Glee

You Looking At Me, Prideful Smile

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119 Minutes Before I Took A Photograph Of My Left Hand Removing Aquamarine From You

Face Down, Purple Gone, Yellow On, Sheets Of White

Your Blue Green (In Sunlight) Eyes Rolling Topsy Turvy, Open Closed

These Secret Treasures® Became Mine

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That’s Me

Eyes Looking Directly At You, Or, Closed So, My Hand To My Face

21 of 55 in 45 days Between Actual Sees, Sent To You, One By One, As Created, Each Time

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I once asked if I could take a photograph of us together, you said of course. I stood behind you, closely, my face in your hair, looking around you back towards my hand, my face close to yours. I raised my arm and held that dead weight of plastic, metal and glass out pointing back at us, as far as my arm would allow me. I moved my finger to press that button. As I was about to, I saw you look down and raise your hand to your face, before you heard the machine make that noise of taken.

So I relaxed my arm under that weight, that is not how I wanted us to look, I did not press. I waited, I shut my eyes and inhaled a breath, smelling your hair. I let it go and raised my arm back out again. I held that dead weight of plastic, metal and glass pointing it back at us as far as my arm would allow me. I looked into the glass, I stared at it, as I noticed you once again look down and put your hand to your face for me in a repeated expression of rethought action for me to see, for my ever, that is what you wanted me to see in you, you couldn’t just be.

That was the last photograph I took of us.

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The last photograph I saw of you, I don’t know if someone else took it or if you took it, but I see that it was not at the end of your out stretched arm, pointing back at yourself, so we cannot know, just as that would only likely tell us, or really not. Maybe it was by someone else, you showing them something too, your hand was on your face in this one as well, but differently. Maybe you took it on a timer, with some chance, but you understand self timers, so chance is unassuming. Was your camera resting on something, a stack of books, a shelf, a tripod, the windowsill over your tub of bath – the hands of a lover or someone that may only appear as so sometimes. Maybe you took it with a long cord attached on one end to the machine and on the other end, attached to your one hiding from us all hand, pressing that button when the expression was right or felt right or was what you wanted us to see. I don’t know, we won’t know, we never can, and that is just how you want it, this is what you are proud of most, no one knowing, any, real, thing.

This Is All I Know Of Mine Known You

Go Forth With True Heart Only (Without Intoxication), All Ye Who Try, Thy Treasure Awaits

29,53.47N 96,52.47W – Touch Above Or Below For This Map Of Bounty

I Do See More, I Will

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nowhereyouwilleverknow & now+youknow

2 January 2011 – 14:38:19

What I Saw Out My Desk Window, Just Now, Again When I Did Not Wish Too