Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

The Lady with Fans-Edouard Manet

 I like to haunt museums.

I like to stand in front of the exhibits and take my time going over every inch of the paintings, the sculptures.

 Once I saw an exhibit that was full of little shapes that made you think of grain silos and farmhouses and here and there were little puffs of white fabric that looked like clouds.

As you moved through the exhibit you felt like you flying over farmlands  somewhere in the Midwest.

I’ve seen King Tut exhibit and the Pompeii exhibit- my favorite display at the Pompeii show were artifacts from a brothel.

One of the walls were hung with heavy curtains.

I took a place against the wall across from the curtained wall and watched.

Some people pretended they didn’t care what was behind the curtain, other people lifted the curtain to the side when they thought no one was watching (but I was…indeed I was) one couple, they were in their late 70’s at least, lifted the curtain back and when they were faced with a boring blank wall said, ” Well that’s was a let down.”

There were some seriously hardcore Pompeii porn in that exhibit and I had no idea how you could have topped some of the things that were on display right out in the open.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

I like to haunt museums.

I can stand back from an exhibit and watch the people- all of those interested, bored, unique faces- art looking at art- all of it becoming art to me.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Used To Be


Photo: A.M. Moscoso


I remember when I used to blog about any little thing that popped into my head.

If what I had written resonated with my readers, I’d get a fun conversation happening in my comments section.

If you’re a writer, that was a good indicator if you were hitting the right notes or falling flat.

I used to think Facebook was getting in the way of that. So I’d stop FB’ing.

Do you know why I went back to FB?

Because that is where the world lives now, and if I want to be part of the ‘community’ that’s where I have to go.


Or maybe I should just go back to my Enduring Bones, where I belong and where I can speak in my writer’s voice- my true voice-and ‘exist’ there.

I guess it is coming down to deciding my Zip Code.

I don’t know about other people, but I can’t live in both places anymore.