Orange like the sunsets when waiting for the boom of the space shuttle while a family stood in their driveway.
Orange like Rothko's painting that thought me how to feel while I wandered through my emotions.
Orange like the mix between the sun, the sand, and the rock where angles stood in Zion; while I witnessed pure beauty.
the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home
it’s the little things they always say like how you listen more than you ever have before or how you stopped opening my car door like how you squeeze me tighter in our hugs or how you don’t answer me
I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt