December 2008
3 posts
A Short History of Flowers
Later, she was knelt on the windowsill looking out across the city. The rain had slowed to an afterthought as night fell. As she moved her face closer to the glass her own reflection was swallowed in the spread of the city and she could see the bright lights of the eateries and bars below. Buildings of a formless grey during the daytime emerged in points of light like constellations, pointing out...
From the pure white of a sun bleached title screen, glimpses of a daydream form. Bits and pieces swirl and wash-up on the shore. The reflection of a broken bridge towering across the horizon, a young boy chased by shadows. The voice of a young girl with a word etched on her lips, “Ico”.