I head back to school for lunch, while kristyn stays downtown to go tanning. On my way, I pass by this empty, garbage/grass consumed lot behind the old pool hall. I have a tendency to walk with open eyes (catch what most consumed people miss) and notice three pages torn out of a novel, left on the ground and weather beaten. The pages are dirty, torn and tattered, yellow and undoubtedly dusty. I decide against picking them up, but lean over them, curious of their content. The pages were nothing close to a great literary work, basic and straightforward, nothing left between the lines. It was a book about a kid skateboarding, or at least, the part I read was about a series of tricks this kid was pulling off. They look so unsure, the words left on the page, the ones that haven’t ran under rainwater or faded into sunlight. The grass around them blows in the wind, but the damp pages remain motionless. I pull my Lumix from the bag that rests on my shoulder, and snap a few photos of the discarded words.

[exerpt from my xanga [link]
Photo Discussed: Discarded Words