I don’t know anything about David beyond his pictures here on P1xels, but I sense in him a kindred spirit, and a true romantic.
I absolutely love this picture, everything about it. A beautiful shot, completely over-saturated and over-apped in the most perfect way. He knew she could handle it: her irreducible femininity conquers the masculine processing to create a beautiful, contemplative portrait with no small amount of Eros streaming out in the quiet of the moment.
For some reason, this picture reminded me of this poem, although it is the poem of an old woman.
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII)
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Fantasia for guitar and string quartet written and played by Eros Roselli