Sunday, June 14, 2015

895. Man, with bouquet

The man at the urinal held the flowers high, like an Olympic torch bearer.
He grasped them tightly in one fist, lending the other to the business at hand.
Maybe it's like Dan said - an offering. 
I'm not sure what he was praying for, but I hope it worked.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

894. Dirty Thumbs

It's not like the good ol' days.
The fingerprints; it's the fucking fingerprints.
So beautifully damning, like smudgy little stool pigeons.
A perfect thumbprint in the chocolate sold him out to his mum and dad. 

Thursday, June 4, 2015

893. Data visualization

"Go to Italy," her dreams shouted at her.
Italy, Italy, Italy.
She started seeing it, hearing it everywhere she went.
Obsessively, she began to doodle it, until it covered her entire house - window, wall, and wood.