I take a photo with you, each time I meet you, to see how much you've changed. Separated by months of online only, phone call talking, our album isn't conventional. We change our hairstyles often. We're clothes eclectic. Our expressions are priceless: frowning, sarcastic.
I wonder how long we've got, how many more moments we'll catch before we're gone, when we don't know each other anymore. First time round, we were more sincere, I can see the blue yolks of your eyes, in my hard copies.
Now, we're authentic, it's complicated, unsustainable, a corner shop next to a Tesco, a cinema not selling food. So I take a photo with you. Knowing we're not forever; only the evidence is.
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