Unphotographable

A post I've been meaning to write. I got the idea from an entry in Camille's blog.

While stopped at the off-ramp into Berkeley off highway 13, an impatient me looked outside the window. A branch-looking figure was in my periphery. I looked down.

It wasn't a branch.

It was a dead dog. Brown and still like a branch.

It was obvious that it had been run over.

Because it's ribs were showing.

I'm talking bones here. Like the ribs you see in the supermarket.

With blood.

And it was deformed.

It's face, it's face looked like a normal dog's.
Jaw open. A dog who wanting attention.
Caught my attention.

I could not COULD NOT get the image out of my head the rest of the day.

And the next day after, at the same spot on the way home from work, it was still there.

Same with the next day,
and the next,
and the next.

Slowly deteriorating. Face still there. Same expression. Jaw still open.

I still can't help but look.

Unphotographable. But like a still photograph in my mind.