The photographer in my head says: Give me peace. Flash. Give me release. Flash.
There will always be an underground.
Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism.
Crying is right at hand in the smothering dark, closed inside someone else, when you see how everything you can ever accomplish will end up as trash.
You can't be beautiful," Brandy says about a thousand times, "until you feel beautiful.
We're all of us haunted and haunting.