A sweeping blue-light commands the view, Erasing distant sunlit memories.

Tentative fingers tapping at keys,

Surrounded by mugs, piled papers and knotted charging cables. A chaotic mind dwells here.If the intriguing ‘poetry camera’ were in my hand now, that’s the kind of end product it could reveal on its tiny scroll of paper, rather than a pixelated thermal-printed image of my messy desk in a pokey, dimly-lit home office. It may well resemble a Fujifilm Instax instant camera, but the
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