A cold stone beach where wind breakers seem the only plausible apparel.
In the fashions of yesterday, I see myself running the streets with a Land Camera unbuttoning my outerwear like in Paolo Roversi’s Self Portraits With Trench.
In 2014, I have no idea how to match this landscape in my real life.
I am torn around the past and I thrive to see the shore.
Sea is calm but you chase me still.
No cars go,
My dress is pale like the sea, the sky is fuchsia like Barcelona in spring.
I see fish running in cold water, and my legs hurt from walking 9 miles to let memory rearrange.–Autor: Ioana Casapu