in_profile raze from the side she looks younger than her own infant child somehow. i want to take a picture of the two of them together, but the lens won't let me capture the complete scene. all i get is her face, pale and full and dense with fog. she takes her hair down and she's grown again. we open a series of nested doors for each other. i do for you. you do for me. on the day of their wedding, her husband falls and forgets his own name. i wonder if he'll know her when he lifts the veil, or if the lips he moves in to kiss will taste like an absence to him — a blank space where once were moving_pictures. 251212 what's it to you? who go blather from