Stories, poetry, narratives of true experience, and guests who have moved me.
This afternoon, I went to the market. As I was locking my car, I noticed an old man in the driver’s seat of a van. His head was down, as if sleeping, and my idle mind thought “Oh, he’s probably having a nap, waiting on the wife.” In about fifteen minutes, I came back out. […]
MoreOriginally posted on Brighton Rose:
Somewhere in the back alleys of the city’s older section there was a crumbling brick building that had been around since before ragtime music was popular. Hanging above a faded green door that led down to the building’s cellar was a wooden sign, and despite the peeling paint, you could…
