Golden light falls across her face — I see perfection.
Golden light hits on my face — I feel exposed.
The crowd blurs into art behind her stillness.
The crowd blurs into noise I can’t escape.
I catch the truth in the absence of her smile.
That “truth” is just me, trying to pull myself together.
The curve of her hand, her furrowed brow — beautiful.
Beautiful? My nails dig into my palm; my forehead aches from the noise.
The image will make strangers wonder who she is.
The image will make strangers think they know me.
I press the shutter to keep the moment alive.
I wish the moment had died before he caught it.
This deserves to be shown.
This deserves to be hidden forever.
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