whole story about them that I photographed.
Was it two years ago or three?
It was not remarked a lot, but it is very near my soul anyway, even today. You do not show to people holding hands or kissing tenderly, this photo speaks by itself, I think.
I bought a bunch of them and they begin to look at each other from afar already, then got more and more near each other, retired in a corner to be alone. Later, alas, as in my life, one of them got bored, and let down the other.
I imagined then him with another, not so nice, and he did wither fast, still or again thinking what the first had given him. But it was too late.
I took a photo of the withered one, lying at the food of the round, still young. But then happened the unexpected: the round too full of herself rotted from inside, while the old end all dried up, withered still lives on my selfs!