"dreams are the subtle dower/ that make us rich an hour/ then fling us poor/ out of the purple door."
-emily dickinson (american poet, 1830-1886)
i'm still getting the hang of scanning my own negatives (or positives: expired provia, in this case) and i suppose i could maneuver away the mauveness in this image if i really really tried, and if i really really wanted to.
but i won't.
and i don't.