Saturday, March 13, 2010
I was peddling a one-speed bicycle seventy miles an hour on a freeway with my wife and grandson aboard. We had one piece of luggage strapped to the frame: a leather saddlebag. Confused by the signs, I took the wrong exit and went up a hill. We got off in a flat graveled area surrounded by leafy trees. There were no cars or bicycles in sight. Several people were milling around, not at all impressed by how we’d arrived. Up ahead, on higher ground, there was a large round concrete tank. Hovering just above it was an empty wooden rocking chair, turning slowly in the breeze.
Added yesterday to the Annandale Dream Gazette. My thanks, as always, to Lynn Behrendt.
Recently Linked: It’s a pleasure to welcome JRonson as a new follower. A young artist from Lisbon, Portugal, JRonson has dreams of being a famous painter. Judging by his blog, PlasticFreak World, he is well on his way.
In the Forum: Depression smokes.