I carefully flip over the narrow piece of wood. I run the paintbrush, a thin layer of the thick, white paint through the grooves of the carved circular pattern within it. It’s getting hotter out.
I’ve started working at a ramen shop.
“Tell me my fortune.” I had said to a friend the night before, laying out my palm.
The theater is dark now. A solitary couple, with matching grey hued short haircuts share a cross look. Glancing behind them, they look at the girl, who is shamelessly drinking a tall glass of wine, munching on popcorn, and snapping pictures.
There are two types of mid-day breaks I welcome. Chips and guac breaks, and foofy art gallery breaks. This post is about the latter.
When Sandra decided to come with me to New Orleans, I let her pick the Airbnb.
I learned how to fold paper cranes at Terra Sol Sanctuary in downtown Wilmington, NC. Up for the task? Prepare to be frustrated.
“I think this one is a pterodactyl,” I say, crinkling my nose.
On Sandra’s last night in New Orleans, we swung by here to listen to some jazz. Cause Jazz!
Sandra gets full credit for finding Frenchmen Art Market.