words as photographs

Crows caw in the distance. The sky is of a bright, cloudless blue. In it, a blazing star blasts the landscape with searing heat and blinding light. It's midday. No hint of shade to be seen. Sun-stricken he walks forward. His armour threatens to boil through his skin. Gleaming, enamelled plate that he got from his parents. A legacy that did him well in his many years of campaigning. That he can't just get rid of. Bloodied, dented and unbroken. A little like him, he observes. He could use a drink. He feels for his wine-sack, and it's a little lighter than he'd like. Still a lot of way left to walk. In his mind, the memory of her kiss. Her parting lips summon a shiver to his spine and a memory of a heat far greater than the one now threatening him with unconsciousness. He adjusts his grip on his bag, swallows dryly, and focuses on thoughts of her green. Out of the desert and into her green eyes. A hot wind blows at his tanned face, heat waves shimmering off his armour. Out...

my skin erupts in sparks when she whispers in my ear a challenge issued and the chase is on my tongue like fire ravaging her skin she's wet desire in my hands I'm hard possession in hers snuck inside her alcove but not patient enough to hold still following instead a primal call to accelerate and penetrate rupture and puncture again and again our bodies crushing against each other and I'm crashing into her I'm crashing into her God help me I can't stop crashing into her I don't want to stop I'm sinking I'm smiling and I'm sinking deeper deeper going under

I wanna hold you in a cage of arms and kisses. Pressed deeply against my chest, my foot sliding on yours, your head nested in my shoulder. I fall asleep to the faint smell of you in your t-shirt and joy engraved in my mind. Sleep takes over and I dream of us at the start, laying in the morning sun, somewhere off a coast in the Caribbean.

Infused and suffused with dark vibrancy Ol' Camden town agitates and invigorates Our creed, our tribe, our family Many are degenerates, some are tourists, A few innocent still, but truly only one Is dead set to make you feel The same one to slam and rock Thrash and throw in the pit Only to then take you down And in fiery emeralds lit Burn in ol' Camden town

24 hours...a bit more or less Until my head rests on your chest Anticipation, how sweet you are You last so long, and go so far Those seconds with you So precious and cherished Will be gone too fast... So just grip and grasp Those golden colors And stop the time, in 24 hours - by Anna Reichel .

in the big screen colours dash and explosions this and heroes that and all that's missing is catching your look of wonder at something cool as the reflection of the film plays off of your face in the dark

I slip in between the green of your home. A gold morning light in a cloudless sky gives presence to my essence. My mind is where my body is not. Between breakfast and the rush out of the door, teasing you again.

tired muscles and heavy lids try to drag me away to sleep. the company and laughter of friends is but a shy balm to this dull ache. I go back a day, or maybe four, or maybe something in between. I'm there and I barely remember what was before. I can hardly see what's next. It's you and me, riding up that hill. You and me, smiling happy. You and me, looking through the cracks, brave enough to see a world outside our heads, brave enough to take the necessary steps and shake the foundations of our lives hard enough so that we keep finding our paths into each other. It's your warm body against mine riding Joan. It's a kiss under three blooming trees. It's naked bodies in warm Spring nights holding each other weightless, timeless . It's Arabic fire. It's a glass of wine in the rocks. It was but only a weekend. I want more.

on the brink of meeting you again excitement is difficult to contain with heavy load I ride out to show what's all about this land of mine this love of mine let's ride!