The room almost emptied, the chair he sits on about to travel to a new home, Jutta's reading glasses I borrowed so I could see what I was doing.
Jutta's Sony CD/cassette/radio, her fingerprints in paint on the "play" buttons and drips and smears all over the speakers, now playing different tapes and CDs while a different kind of painting is attempted.
The little one claiming the chair Jutta sat in and claimed her art. ** Related Posts:
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.