The Lady in Red

A connection between strangers. Two worlds collide. Reality and myth. All lines converge into one. And there she is, preserved forever in my lens, in my mind, in some neuron rearranged to remember – specific geometries, color, the unique configuration of curves that make up a face. In the flash of a moment. Captured in our mutual nows. Her waiting, my seeing, linked by a gaze, a discovery, a recognition. There are no strangers. There is no myth. Nothing is random. Without the exchange of names or stories we are already known.


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