Mother Died Today


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Or maybe yesterday. From The Stranger, by Albert Camus, UWM concourse.

What Could It Be?


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I am waiting for the bus next to a light pole. It has been raining and it is dark (and cold). There used to be a sticker of some sort on the metal pole, but it was torn off and the light-colored forms seen here are what remain. Art? Trash? Mouse and dog? It appealed to me and that’s enough.