Peter of 1960... or even 59. all but marching through a stone labyrinth, talking about rats. gripping steel bars and handling glass fine. lounging with a book in the eye of a quiet storm...

black & white film doing weird, wonderful things to blue eyes...

and oh dear, there is so, so much tension, building up & lashing out and what have you, and in the end the two men who have good reasons to punch one another, or at least to glare, end up exchanging this look... soft and defeated...
...and there is me, trying once more to fish my brain out of the gutter.

bugger & blast (one half of which is true, and the other, well, wishful thinking #-)

Tags: peter
mood: content
sound: Oingo Boingo - we close our eyes