I like broken people, the ones whose frames are scratched, dented and their corners don’t match up well. I like people who have discolored pictures, broken glass, torn canvases. Somehow troubles, pain, turmoil, and suffering tends to create genuineness.
There’s something about pain and trouble that acts like a cleansing fire burning out the impurities of life. Those who emerge from hard times are tempered, refined, and often, real. It’s not that anyone wants a broken frame or cracked glass, but life breaks and shatters us anyway. Continue reading Broken Picture Frames
When he smiles, it is obvious he has only one front tooth on top. He has a pear-shaped body so his hips are wider than his shoulders, and he walks with a limp. He always looks sleepy, and the giant T-shirts he wears every day with his thick glasses give him the appearance of a dull wit.
The thing is, he’s not. He’s actually quite witty, charming too. And he’s smart. It’s not that he’s educated. He’s not. But he’s wise. Wise is better. Continue reading Mr. Willie
I was dreaming that a small red measuring cup was stuck on my thumb. Don’t ask why. I don’t know. It was an odd dream, but when the alarm clock went off a few minutes ago at 4:45 AM, it immediately “unstuck” the measuring cup. Continue reading May It Be
I was making my way to a book store down town in my own little world, absorbed in my own thoughts, with no desire to interact with anyone other than get done what I was doing and leave. Continue reading Why Me?