“Another winter comes
His icy fingers creep
Into these bones of mine
These memories never sleep…
You were my compass star
You were my measure…
If this was all correct…
It’s time that I confess: I must have loved you.”
—Sting, Ghost Story.
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Photographs by Peter
Prosophos
Bonita canción (beautiful song)
Nice that spring is the one coming instead.
Haunting, heartbreaking, loving, delicate, exquisite.
An image like this hijacks daylight.
In the future you might want to alert your readers that what they are about to see and read might….temporarily or permanently…interfere with what they planned on seeing, doing, thinking or feeling.