This, I told her.

Ana Iris asked me if I loved him and I told her about the lights in my old home in the capital, how they flickered and you never knew if they would go out or not. You put down your things and you waited and couldn’t do anything really until the lights decided. This, I told her, is how I feel. 

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text from Junot Diaz’s This is how you lose her.

photograph taken with a Minolta X-700

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