Tag Archives: photos

The Girl With Melancholy Eyes

There was once this girl with really sad eyes at a concert and I fell in love with her in an instant. It was at a Belle and Sebastian show (of course, why wouldn’t it be?) and I noticed her when my friend needed a smoke. We headed out to the small corral they created for the tobacco-addicted and I felt like a cow herded into a small enclosure surrounded by metal fences.

The crowd literally shifted and opened and my memory tells me a streetlight shone down on her as if she were on stage under a spotlight. Her short blonde hair, perfect for her face, was brushed out of her eyes by her pale, petite hand and in an instant I could sense, feel, and see how sad she was. She smiled, took a drag on her cigarette, laughed at what someone said to her, yet the melancholy poured from her eyes and into my heart, infecting it.

A moment later she looked over at me and the smile disappeared; she knew I could see into her soul, could sense through her façade that she felt pain. She nodded to me and I smiled, which caused the corners of her mouth to crack a little before returning to her conversation.

Change the World

For sale on my Etsy along with many other works!

Her Little Boy



This work, along with many others, is available on my Etsy.

Paris Seen in Four Days

“Oh my..” she said from the back of the cluttered vintage store. He tried to see her over stacks of antiquated books but could only see her jet black hair, forehead and bright blue eyes as they widened in excitement.

“What did you find?”

“The perfect travel guide.” Her hand reached over the stacks with a small pamphlet-sized booklet that was probably once a deep red but had, over the decades, faded into a pinkish color. He took the small book carefully and looked at the cover.

“Paris Seen in Four Days” he read aloud. “How old is this?”

“I was too excited to look!” she whispered. Now it was her turn to see his brownish eyes widen.

“Wow the map in here is beautiful. I would feel horrible traipsing around Paris with such a work of art.”

She sighed. “I agree. But it’s so magnificent, we could use it to see the city the way people did back then. Is there a year?”

He paused and with care turned the first few pages. “I don’t see any. But it’s probably almost a hundred years, give or take. How old is the metro?”

“The first was in 1900, but the majority of construction would have been in 1920,” she said with an immediateness that made him smile at her obsession.

“Well then it’s not quite one hundred years old then, it has a metro map.”

She suddenly went from a pair of eyes over the books to just the top of her head, he assumed she’d been standing on her toes.

“I think it would be so magical to roam the streets and metro with something like this rather than a modern travel guide.”

“I dunno…what if half this stuff is gone? Or streets changed names?”

“Meet me around the bookcase,” she said as her head bobbed and disappeared around the corner. He followed her instructions. Her eyes still shone bright when they met up.

“Please?” she said with multiple blinks.

“How can I resist?” he asked her as she did a little cheer and then hugged him.

 

Gluten-Free

After a single conversation in the office break room, one in which he mentioned his gluten allergy and his subsequent inability to find a delicious cookie that contained none of the evil flour that was his enemy, she spent hours upon hours working in her small, one-bedroom-apartment kitchen trying to perfect a recipe that was both delicious and safe for her crush of five months. She emerged victorious, with more than a little flour on her cheeks and clothing and a small tupperware container full of her success.

While not gluten-free, these are whole wheat and sugar-free. That’s right, I bake too! 🙂

An Experimental Summer

This work and many others available on my Etsy.

A Jealous Sibling

This pring, along with many others, can be purchased on my Etsy.

City Girl

This photograph/story, along with many others, is available on my Etsy here.

The Rogue Child

Photograph by Christina Molholm, whose blog can be found here.

As she went through her wallet checking on funds she absentmindedly went for a basket and out of the corner of her eye realized something was wrong; there was a small child sitting in the top one. After a moment of thought and a quick look around for a nearby frantic parent she grabbed the last basket from the other stack and turned to walk away. After a few feet she stopped and looked back at the child, who gave her such a melancholy stare that she couldn’t just leave him there.

“Is anyone looking for a rogue child?” she said to her surroundings. Nobody surfaced with a look of calming insanity so she said it again, louder. “Did anyone lose a kid?” He rested his head on the side of the blue basket and sighed. She walked over to the manager’s desk and reported the little boy as missing, and went about her shopping, proud of her triumph, as she heard the loudspeaker say, “Would the owner of the rogue child sitting in the pile of baskets please report to the manager.”

Imagine

“That was an amazing exhibit.”

“Oh trust me, I remember,” he said as he changed his Facebook status to one simple word, Imagine.

“Found it!” she said as she pulled the record Double Fantasy out of his collection and brought it to the turntable.

“Good job. Remember the wish trees?”

They were thinking back to an art exhibit they’d seen in Montreal that was a tribute to John and Yoko.

“I loved them. What was your wish again?”

He looked away from her.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to admit it. But I know it was me.”

“Yeah yeah,” he tried to dismiss that part of the conversation.

“We actually were IN the bed of the famous sleep in.”

“I know, it was impressive. I think my favorite was how interactive the exhibit was. How they invited everyone to take part, like how we could hammer a nail to the wall.”

“And all those stamps that said imagine peace in multiple languages?”

“You just had to find the French one, then we stamped your hand with it and took photographs of your hand all over Montreal.”

She sat on the couch next to him and snuggled up. “They were airing all of her home movies of the two of them.”

“The whole wall of War is Over signs was pretty neat too.”

“Agreed. I wish we could go back and do it again.”

“Well, we could totally go to Montreal. But the exhibit is long gone.”

“I know.”

The record continued to play in the background and she looked at him.

“This is a perfect way to spend his birthday, listening to his records with someone I love.”

“Agreed,” he said as he put his arm around her.