Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Eye: The Arms of Central Park


Central Park in the fall, the first she'd ever seen. The crisp sunlight threw dappled shapes onto the worn pavement through the trees, which sighed contentedly in the cool breeze. The first caress of winter had tinted the very edges of the leaves in brown lace, preparing them for their new, cold weather wardrobe.

She was not looking up, though, nor out at the park. She stared only at her traveling companion's denim-draped back, at the impatient feet briskly trotting away from her. The silence between them had grown as long as the tunnel of fresh green ahead; the chill encroaching as surely and steadily on their words as it was on the greenery.

It was only a matter of time before winter fell.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Eye: Sights of SoMa

"Street Gallery"

The artists came in the night, one by one. Each left their mark on the condemned wall, weaving name and style together as one. When the dawn came, the artists vanished, leaving only their epithets for the waking city.

A gallery of scaffolding, canvases of concrete, dreams as bold and fragile as a fine mist of paint.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Eye: Spider's Delight

"Abandoned Aloe"

Only the spiders kept vigil, shielding themselves from the crystalline rain under the plant's sturdy fronds. They knew it was only a matter of time before their home shriveled in this industrial wasteland, but to the tiny arachnids, the slow creak of decay would span generations, and even the husk of their organic palace would serve as monument to their own eternal survival.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Eye: Portland's April

"School Window"

The fog engulfed the old school like an afghan knit of cobwebs, softening the impact of the outside world until it was no more than a blunt whisper. Only the lone cherry blossom tree in the courtyard reminded the children what color was, what life awaited beyond the dusty windows...

...the fragile promise of sunlight, the hope of Spring's first kiss.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Eye: Far from Home

"Vegas, Brooklyn"

Come in...come in pull up a chair. The heat is swelling outside, choking throat and thought alike. Find yourself a cool, dark corner, and refresh yourself with iced, mint drinks and familiar songs. No one will bother you. We're all refugees from the Brooklyn summer here.