There is a husband. And a wife. Above them a mild sky. Pretty music plays nearby. “Nice violins,” the husband says to his wife who doesn’t respond. She is kneeling on the freshly-cropped lawn, ripping weeds out of a round flowerbed. The smell of wild onions permeates the air. The garden is bordered by redContinue reading “Fear of the Fuchsia”
Crumbling Asphalt 