Looking up from his writing desk, where no writing is getting done, he looks out his window at the corpse of a city he once...
Looking up from his writing desk, where no writing is getting done, he looks out his window at the corpse of a city he once...

$300

Looking up from his writing desk, where no writing is getting done, he looks out his window at the corpse of a city he once wandered.
© 2020 By Duane Kirby Jensen, 
9 x 12 watercolor wash and pen sketchon watercolor paper

PreviousIn the isolation of the midnight hour, the streets where quiet and the bars shuttered... he mused, they thought my nicotine ....When cascading words of hope, happiness and encouragement taste of ash, the only sane thing to do is go mad. Next

 


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