Only the trained eye of the Voyeur could imagine the power the watched wield.
The focus fades. The light grows dim. The afternoon asks for more.
A gaze, off in the distance, indirect and uninviting. The bleak brittleness of solitude.
Only the trained eye of the Voyeur could imagine the power the watched wield.
The focus fades. The light grows dim. The afternoon asks for more.
A gaze, off in the distance, indirect and uninviting. The bleak brittleness of solitude.