Fixed focus

I want myself to remember my rose, but I haven’t been able to get it out of that neighborhood. It ought to be isolated in darkness, where image lights its way through dream to memory. This surround is nothing but a reactive surface where purposely grown rose and weedy incidental all fade to white together. When the reaction has gone to completion and the rose has gone fully blank, there will be no more way back to the memory of red dark. I will sleep open-eyed in death.

Source: The car, datable artifact, may be a 1969 Dodge.

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