You cannot go back, to return does not mean
to rerun, I recognise these streets, I can recall
a certain laugh, a twisted lie, an open door,
but my footprints have changed. I cannot find
the same sunflower I drew when I was younger
than this youth I now cling to and so many
of those old doors have twisted and the lies
opened out to be nothing more than lessons.

I cannot go back, the streets now wear shadows
that never fell from this form I have now become.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This month is about looking back in order to move on, one last nod to Paris before I part.