Before I go out to take a picture of someone, I just stop at the city desk and say, 'Do you want him gazing out toward the sunset or picking his nose?'
You wash the horse, and I’ll wash the horse trainer. Then we’ll wash the dishes while we gallop into the sunset like two dirty lovers.
The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color -- oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples...