My photos sit on the dining table waiting to be framed. I sit on the couch, thinking about words, as my knee pushes me outside. The words I have posted here have been minimal, to surround or highlight the photos I have gathered. They have rarely stood alone. As I look back over my post titles, they read like band names, odd shops, book titles or definitive statements from a forgotten text. I might need to explore that more and see what unfolds. I use images to tell stories, to find my way. Maybe I have been taking words for granted.
For now, I wonder....
Who drives the Zippy Onion Truck?
What is being wrenched at the Good Grief Body Shop?
Where can I pick up the handbook of Trash Can Wisdom?
Which exit on the I-5 is Bingo Barber Shop?
Does Flap Jack Ocean taste like maple syrup?
What is for lunch at Pepi Delmon's Dining Room?
Are Muck and Beautiful Barb dancing?
Do Cheeto and the Who Bears need a drummer?
What killed the Poison Tired Two?
Do the Running Rail Birds tag the trains by starlight?
Do truckers dare sleep at Rest Stop Danger Flower?
Is Sweet Potato Joe enjoying his slice of pie?
Are there snakes and raptors in the Rat Saddle Redwoods?
Who mends the Dirt Flags of October?
Are creatures less fearful when you are wearing your Wilderness Shoe?
What happens when Faint Blue Dust is wiped away?
Who will sing the Sky Leap Remnant Song underneath the Insomnia Moon?