Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Through the dark wood they drove towards a light in the distance.

Monday, September 26, 2016

By mid-September he was ready to toss the radio out the window, smash the computer, and cut the cable to avoid any more news about the presidential race.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

The sun hung high in the sky; dusty light slicing through the shades, accusing me of shiftlessness.

Saturday, September 24, 2016

The dog snarled and snapped its jaws before realizing the boy had brought him a treat.

Friday, September 23, 2016

His moral compass broken, he wandered the political wasteland with a flamethrower to kill off anything still growing there.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

The old park, shaggy and unkempt, stood in stark contrast to the ever-changing neighborhood and was the last refuge of the lost and lonely.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

I wandered the streets of the city I once called home no longer able to visualize the welcoming shops and careworn homes that had been replaced by glass and steel monoliths.