Some scenes we are stuck with like that hand
in that taxi as we left the city I hadn’t said goodbye to.
Whose hand did you think you were holding,
didn’t you know what you’d found hadn’t yet been formed?
Some scents are forever tied to necks where we’ve left traces
of our lips, like you said, yesterday, when I found you
crossing over after so long on the other side
and the first thing you mentioned was my scent, still that scent.
Some places latch on like limbs and I wonder if you will twitch,
still, when I slip you from my spotlight as another taxi
carries me off without a single person to goad my direction.
Some things stay the same and other things we only learn
to master when we find out the right time to walk away.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly.
I first left Paris for London at 24, without a thought as to all I was leaving behind or whether or not I had found who I was. I held someone’s hand who knew who they were while I still had no real idea of myself. Falling in love is sometimes like falling off your own route and it takes time to find your feet afterwards. I will never not fall again, but at least I now know that there is learning in the rising.