Betsy Takes a Drive

My response to prompt from the Soul Food Cafe

At The Crossroads

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

” This place really is a ghost town”  Victor said to Betsy.

They were standing next to Betsy’s car on that hot, dusty August afternoon, in a town that used to be called Milton.

Betsy was holding a water bottle full of warm water but she drank it anyway because it was wet and her mouth was full of grit. ” Yeah, well it’s dead alright. Dead and as dry as an old bone. ”

Victor shook his head when Betsy offered him a drink from the bottle that was now full of floating bits of whatever had made it’s way into Betsy’s mouth when the air conditioner in the car decided to stop working and she rolled the windows down for some moving air. ” Really Betsy?”

” Your loss.”She put the cap back on the bottle and tossed it back into her car. ” Yep. ” This is…

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Hallow Me

From My Soul Food Café Workbook

At The Crossroads

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

When I was a child I was inspired by Halloween.

I was moved to create art- either on a pumpkin or by drawing Halloween pictures ( which were pretty horrifying because I couldn’t draw and anything I did draw ended up looking like a disjointed mess ) or by putting together ideas for costumes.

I always wanted to be a dog or a space alien or a monster but somehow I ended up compromising with my Mom and my Paternal Grandmother by wearing one of my Easter dresses. Coupled with  little makeup I was  transformed into a last minute ‘princess’ or I’d get one of those costumes in a box that were all the rage back in the early 1970’s.

So yes, I was moved to create some kind of art at Halloween but I just was not very good at it.

The funny…

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Is Nowhere Somewhere?

All of these signs have something to say.

They offer us guidance or they serve as a blank canvass  for some impromptu self expression.

Most of the time I think they get in the way and that they talk too much.

Just like people.

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Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso