Grease

Going to the movies is one of my favorite experiences. Walking up to the theater, staring  at the marquee, going through the heavy  double doors and past the red velvet ropes. From the smell of popcorn and butter, to anticipation of the movie. The escape from a current reality is the most promising part of…

A place to call home

I used to imagine that the splattered seeds mixed with the green and white chunks of Osage-orange flesh were what brains on the pavement would look like. I thought that until a few kids and I stumbled on a bunch of blood and what appeared to be brain matter on the ground behind a building on our walk to school just about a week before. It was not the same, at all! We, I mean I, poked at some of the larger greyish chunks with a pencil from my bag. I was so fascinated by the soft and delicateness of it. It didn’t seem reasonable that this soft fragile mass could be the source of who we were. I could not comprehend what happened to the magic of the memories, thoughts, and love as the neurons that produced them lay in the street.