Hopperesque

Hopperesque

Friday 20 October 2017

Close to Our Fingertips


            The wind smelled of humus, lichen, the musky odor of pecan husks broken under the shoe, a sunshower on the fields across the bayou. But any poetry that might have been contained in that moment was lost when i stared into Honoria's face, convinced that human insanity was as close to our fingertips as the act of rubbing fog off a window pane.

James Lee Burke
Crusader's Cross
2005

image
Richard Prince

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