He took a picture with a camera, of all things. That was your first clue the man was an artiste. Said he wanted a machine not with memory but the temporary imprint of film, a fleeting preoccupation. He called you a concept worth developing. You in your solstice scarf, dog collar boots and exclusive eyeshadow palette. A bold avatar in fuchsia, licking the cosmos with every strut. Bright and free: the very essence of solar punk. Those Nosferatu fingers, bent on the click, a trigger happy sonic bang. It’s not every day you meet an amazing woman.
Amazing women don’t always have to change the world, locked in martyrdom belting iconic speeches at the helm of Great War. Amazing women can just be. Exist and charge among us, wind through us, initiative-less and merry, fighting each battle of every day. And by being, their warmth trickles out and spreads over humankind like treacle on buttery toast. Difficult en masse, to make life insurmountably pinker.
“File:Woman Travel Adventure Trek Mountain Rock.jpg”by Qirille is licensed under CC0 1.0