B.O.B.T. #3
Desperately, she reaches out towards us as we pass by, towards anyone that will save her from her plight. But it appears it is too late: she is washed up and brushed aside both, left to hold onto her small bare vine in the wet leaves of a back alley.
Cinematic in a lurid kind of way, ain’t it?
DAJ
mislaid@boulevardofbrokentoys.org
