After he carefully slid into a somewhat snug space in a perfectly pish-posh section of town, J, not Gatsby mind you, but Gunther, proudly emerged from his polished blue automagical chariot and showered himself in what could only be described as impeccable sunshine.
As soon as the one time cool, now completely off the charts cool car door was closed behind him, the entire day, for that matter any day from this point forward, was his to tether, take and twist.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The flightpath of an aimless gossamer was drifting in a weakening afternoon breeze that tickled noses and made just about everyone rub their eyes amidst the dusty setting sunshine.
As one bid adieu to a newly discovered bourbon still, flighty fluffy somethings from an alcohol-driven yesterday continued to float into an airy ballroom we call today.
(Photo: Michael Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
When I pressed my glowering face against the cold window to get better focus, cheek and glass vibrated in consonance as resonating rumbles of thunder rolled low across a threatening sky.
Inside my muddled mind, a bone-dry sugarcane field burned and fusty senses turned tourbillion as a flash punch cracked the glass and snapped me back to the cellar floor.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 123)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The man with a slightly understated striped gray hat and a penchant for off the rack checked suits grabbed the nearest fawn, which was sexy but not overly so.
The table, which was always sought by the most important people who ever bled or breathed, waited.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
The horribly disfigured, eyeless face staring directly at me from a filthy, shadeless second floor window wasn’t necessarily there.
Costumes and candy fueled caterwauling continued on the crowded concrete steps, while that gruesome enigmatic image appeared to peer at nobody else.
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads
Mytwosentences 