As well as being a place to indulge my love of Hipstamatic and iPhone photos, this is a blog of images and words. Of little vignettes and quiet corners from a place in my head, a place I call The Moth House. Of significant, and also small, happenings there, the wanderings and musings and sad reveries of it's occupants, The Parted Lovers.

Wednesday


It seemed there was always a third person with them.

His presence like a specter just over her shoulder,
in the corner of her eye.

She could ignore it no longer.

She knew she had to see him.