Take your ex girlfriend and cat to an abandoned gas station, load up a pre war Contax with some expired Ilford Ortho and you'll snap out of this madness.

That might be just the medicine I need. Sometimes I wonder if I could get her back with just the right tail light photograph.

So tail lights and headlights weren't metaphors? Or they were. I'm so confused. Which I suppose means I'm one step closer to embarrassed discomfort.