1. Notes: 6 / 1 year ago 

   The photos, he decided, were impossibly beautiful. People, places, times like this didn’t exist, couldn’t exist, and aspiring to it was as admirable as it was foolish.

   Where was the dirt, the death? But perhaps the beauty contained its own kind of morbidity: the lovers never to kiss, the perfect to remain unchanged while their home might rot, might burn.

   The photos, he decided, must go.

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