He will always be home. The smell of that apple-scented candle lingering through the vents of the house Shoes with muddy tongues lined up by the front door Red, hot stove burners alive on Sunday mornings Scratches and greasy fingerprints cluttering the worn porcelain bowls Battered pillows covered in drool and old make up Wrinkled… Continue reading Residency.
My day started with a gun. I didn’t know where it came from, what it was doing on top of my backpack, or why I needed it. But, there was a message etched into its cold, black, side in peeling white-out, maybe from all the sweaty and anxious palms that have caressed it, that said… Continue reading Heavy Metal.
Warning: hunger and deliciousness pictured below in many different plates, meals, recipes, and forms. (If you want to know what restaurant, or where, let me know in the comments below).