I like hanging upside down, staring at the pictures on the wall. Those frozen moments of time with emotions captured eternally. I feel the pulse of blood rushing to my head as I contemplate the laughter long since faded, the innocence that had not yet been lost. A picture says a thousand words they say, but what does a picture say when the second it's printed, framed and hung, it speaks of a past already out of reach? What about when the words that picture speaks are already lies and the truth diminishing under the weight of reality? I stare at the faces, so familiar yet unknown. Who are these happy people smiling with white teeth, eyes sparkling with that special glint of delight? I stare, searching for what happened beyond the picture but it is not there. This picture will never show what happened ten minutes later as the smiles turned to anger and the eyes filled with tears. The words of anger will not be spoken in this picture. So much for those thousand words.