diary / by Edward Mullany


And here is a photo of me on a trail in the woods in the northern part of the state, turning to glance over my shoulder at the person who is taking it, and who has just said my name to me, aloud, so that I will look back at her, the way I am doing, making my face visible to the camera, though after the photo has been captured I will turn again, the other way, so I can watch where I am stepping, and she, also stepping, will see only my shoulders and my backpack and my bum and my legs, though after a while we will stop, or she will catch up to me, or I’ll turn to say something to her, about the trail or the view, or a memory that I think will make her laugh, and we’ll see each other’s faces again.