She Did As She Felt, And She

To Abandon A Child, She Had Once Said To Someone, When She Thought Cassandra Couldn't Hear, Was An Act So Cold, So Careless, It Refused Forgiveness.

Hope, How She Had Grown To Hate The Word. It Was An Insideious Seed Planted Inside A Person's Soul, Surviving Covertly On Little Tending, Then Flowering So Spectacularly That None Could Help But Cherish It.

It Is A Cruel, Ironical Art, Photography. The Dragging Of Captured Moments Into The Future; Moments That Should Have Been Allowed To Be Evaporate Into The Past; Should Exist Only In Memories, Glimpsed Through The Fog Of Events That Came After. Photographs Force Us To See People Before Their Future Weighed Them Down.

When Reason Sleeps, The Monsters Of Repression Will Emerge.

Darling Girl, Blinded By Foolish Thoughts Of Love. How To Tell Her That The Hearts Of Men Were Not So Easily Won. If Won, Rarely Kept.