The tryst in Trieste was a treat for sore feet having walked across a frozen Lake Constance in a leaking row boat all along the watchtower.
At the end of the befuddled mud puddle of muddled mutants, Papa cast a line across the river and into the Garden of Eden. The observations of honored furniture became the operative activity in the days before all concern over and under the opposition to justice and rule of flaws in the architecture. Negligence was nothing compared to the complete cacophony of phony phone booths, wearing boots on the wall like a liquored up skunk in the outfield. Tongues of ice and bearers of curses angered the flavor of the month club with wounded conscience and tattered soles of their espadrilles.
Deliverance came with a fee, but the driver stalled at the on-ramp of destiny, and the furniture languished for all eternity.
Discover more from Faded Houses Green
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
I love this.
I also love your essay on Ulysses. Four pages a day. Perfect.
Great story,
I like how you close it up at the end, the whole thing was cool!
I enjoy your creative writes. Keep it up!!
Nice post 💓
Happy afternoon ☀️🌎🇪🇦
Good bless you 🌈
That painting is gorgeous.