Perhaps the Moon_15 East 7th Street Manhattan_Bigger than Ourselves_Red Against Blue
Catalog Guide:
Perhaps the Moon
PERHAPS THE MOONThe moonlight illuminates the garden and the rose bushes cast sketchy shadows on the nearby earth. It is impossible not to see that the rows and rows of flowers have had their ample share of attention recently. All to impress him, whatever he may look like. She stands at the window, looking out, but she might as well try to count the stars as to imagine the countenance of her betrothed.Father has said she will think him well-favored and handsome, but taking his opinion is not something she chooses to do. Mother, however, hasn't said much as to his appearance but has abundantly ...
15 East 7th Street Manhattan
There he sat, back to the black-bellied stove that once burned coal a little too hot. A cup filled with coffee rested on the wooden table beside a notepad. There he sat. There he wrote.It was a time before the time of computers and laptops and cell phones. An age when the tip of a pen met paper and the mind was squeezed out in ink. Thought flowed with the sweep of the hand, pushed into tails and curls, and its sentence finished in a puddle of blue. An ink dot. The stop of the thought. The start of another.He sat doing this, lifting his pen now and again, resting his eyes on the window pane whe...
Bigger than Ourselves
The streets of my slum town are anything but cheery. Oil puddles fill the alleyways, and I do my best not to step in them as I duck in and out of the shadows.Not many people are out, especially not at this time of night. Candles light a few windows, flickering like tiny beacons in the dark. For a small moment, I wish the fire were bigger so that I could have the pleasure of warming my hands.“Please, neighbor, spare a coin for a starving friend,” says a raspy voice from my feet. I look down at the man, huddled in a wool blanket. He shivers. His eyes are black as the oil spills, his hair and ash...
Red Against Blue
TW: War, violence, death.Smoke told of downfall. Changing flags represented the end of an era. Red and yellow fire banners of the Isotopwww.onedoor.cce empire had become the blue and green waves of the Republic of Entropa.Kareen saw none of it. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”“Yes mother,” said Anna. “A great day to celebrate the anniversary of the empire.” The daughter didn’t have the heart to tell her imperialist mother that the empire had fallen. Her fingers wiggled in a constant casting. Kareen would never know the truth; it would kill her.“Why don’t we go for a walk?” The mother smiled. Her eyes were gla...